I wake up and stretch look to my left

It’s the same snores

I drift out the bed to my right and follow an invisible trail in the dark

I am more than the dishes that are stacked on the sink

But one can’t help but to think that maybe that is my place

It’s really not so bad

The bubbles caressing my hands keeping them youthful

Well that’s what the TV ad said

I choose to believe them because why not

I’m at this sink what seems like most of my adult life

In between the plates and the butterknives I dive

Deeper into my thoughts

As I wash the dishes

I also wash my soul

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