Lots of mops for sale, I see.
Some end in rectangular sponges(harvested from rectangular seas?).
Some end in wigs of rope, some
in plastic absences to be filled by
the legendary "sold separately."
If I stand by these mops too long,
I'll worry someone. But where would
I go? Not to the meat department,
certainly not to the carnival
of cereal boxes full of sugar.
Perhaps to red fruits and green
vegetables? For now I'll stand
and stare, thinking of my grimy
floor, and I will try "acting normal"--
a strange state of being.
hans ostrom
