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In A
Bathtub by Ken
Shiovitz I sit
in a bathtub
Floating free with body and mind. Locked,
not free. I am
tied pole-tight to my predecessors, my followers. I sit
in a bathtub so my progeny can sit in a bathtub, So
theirs can sit in a bathtub, in a bathtub, in the future equivalent of a
bathtub. Dad sat
in a bathtub, grandpa sat in a bathtub, Cavedad
sat in a pool of water. I hear
the screams of my great aunts, distant past relatives, They
grunted so I can sit in a bathtub. I scan
bathroom ceiling, tile walls, soap dish. I see
my belly, legs, toes. I
wiggle my toes; push soap in the soap dish. Humans
gave me the soap dish, walls, my toes. I flex
sexual muscles. I give
later humans their toes and soap dishes.
Contribute and die! We live
to add in a direction that is clearly discernable.
Contribute to the pool of humans.
Contribute to the pool of human knowledge. We
cannot resist the direction. Such
efforts only get in the way of others. Or
there will be no baths. There
will be no soap. There
will be no collection of useful thoughts. |
