You cannot escape the kitchen
without
breaking a plate,
messing about with the cabinets,
or spilling left overs on the granite counter
The hope is
for a broom
& a dust pan
Coated in the soot & crumbs
of the last time you attempted
to make things better
When you danced around
the *****
Listening to Sam Cooke
Salvaging the life
you wish
to proudly call yours
But you notice the pieces on the floor
The ***** pieces you have strangely organized,
as if that organization of filth
would somehow make things better
Make them more controlled
Every piece
a part of your construct
A part of your menagerie
Some pieces you wish you could take back
But they are broken
& some pieces are worth recycling
Unto a better home
A new existence
Some pieces
You just can't be bothered with.