the other day
another misstep:
i cut my foot
on a piece of glass
and bled a little bit
on my so-called lover's
kitchen floor.

i cleaned up the wound
and then the floor.

sometime later
back in the kitchen
Miss Congeniality
pointed out
that i'd "missed
a couple of spots."

no concern
for my injury or pain
of course.

what a big surprise.

if i'd been shot, i imagine
she would have
been complaining
about blood spatters
on the wall

and so forth.

i can almost hear it:
Dammit, how am I going to
get those stains out of the drapes?

it's always good to know
where one stands
in the scheme of things.

in the hierarchy of values
i apparently stand lower
than the floor
that i stood on that day.

© by Jack T. Marlowe