Spray,
A poem by
SHERMAN ALEXIE
<>
man sitting on gang chair during daytime
somebody has left orange peels
on the food court table and I wanna
find the ******* who violated
the social contract, who left
this sticky mess, who thought
their little life was more
imporant than the little lives
of the rest of us, but there are so
many ******* in this airport
and I know that I'm one of them,
I know I've disgusted strangers
multiple times in my life so
I just pick up those orange peels
and toss them into the nearby
garbage bin and I wonder how
any of us disgusting humans
fall in love with any other
disgusting human
and our toenail clippings
and rashes and skin tags
and waxy ears and acne
and bad breath and greasy
farts and belly button bacteria
and crotch humidity
and rank body odor
but it happens all the time
people constantly fall in love
and I bet that somebody in
this massive international airport
has, just a moment ago, fallen
in love with somebody
they've just met and isn't it
amazing how many people
in this terminal have climbed
naked into bed and sweated
into the pores of their lovers
and received their sweat
in return and, wow, think
of how many people in this airport
have conceived a baby and how
many of us have seen a baby being
born in all that brutal beauty, look
at all these women, these mothers
and think of how they wrecked
their bodies in the name of love
and think of how we parents
have welcome our children's
**** and **** and ***** and spit
into our lives, who've had all
of those body fluids splash into
our hands, splatter our faces,
and spray into our mouths,
and so here I sit at my gate waiting
for my delayed flight and I see
a homely man and homely woman
curl around each other like one
hundred orange peels and I smile
because I'm mostly okay
with this world awash
with all that is awful
and all that is good
