Sunday, March 20, 2005

In Praise Of Filth

When they cart my cold lifeless body to the morgue
fur balls in the carpet won't matter,
the mega hour AOL frisbees will sit where they are
unmolested near last year's rat droppings,
the shower curtain will evolve on its own,
bedsheets too
linen dreams, cotton passions
rumpled, smelling of past nights and past adventures
best left uncleansed lest we lose the memories
will in the end refuse all our best human efforts
at human sterility.