I feel endless, with his stick inside
and around, eating my whole being,
making a mess without regard to
ancient, floating dirt.
Finally able to escape my body’s depths
after months of tortured isolation.
The vacuum yearns for dust, but I cleaned

just yesterday, no need for the broom.
Particles ascend from my abdomen
out the window, flying, somewhere, far
in the distance. He follows, staggering,
out the front door.

Seven numbers, written quickly on a small
page of notepad, tossed from his
hand, flying with the wind until, finally,
the paper meets dust.
Beginning of an invisible friendship,
forgotten by morning.

I awake, smiling at the sun.
Feeling light,
spotless,
refreshed.