Summertime makes my feet hard
Dirty
Perpetually covered in a dry film of dust, shower be damned
On this summer night, when all that I have yet to accomplish for the week is to rest
I read this letter that someone handed to me earlier, and muse:
I wish I knew more men who would chance to speak to me in this way
With grungy toes and a face not yet washed of the day's sweat
The bedspread beneath me all but cries out YOU ARE GONNA NEED TO WASH ME SOON
No matter- I am entirely charmed
And I know that I deserve this, and more of this
And then, like a tactless and blunt and out-of-place punchline, I remember
Life is waning.