July 16, 2008
Cleanliness
Transmitter wrote this in the wee hours:
He’d been on a plane all day and she needed to get him clean.
She put me in the bath with my underwear on. I had drawing pens in my pants. The ink mixed with the water and swirled in inky clouds – a pocket full of plastic squids. She came back to check on me. The squids’ black discharge upset her. She couldn’t clean it up, so she washed my mouth out with soap. My mouth wasn’t dirty. She was the one screaming. It didn’t bother me. I wrapped my head in bubbles from my mouth. Pop. Pop. Pop. Hippity. Hippity. Hop. I skip naked out of the bathroom.
My smudged footprints gave me up. She found me in my cabinet fort. I should have known better than to trust the cleaning supplies to keep me hidden.
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