Spit, Rinse, and Repeat
by Robert Russell
I am Prufrock in the morning,
as I stand brushing my teeth,
reflection gazing, an oak to my left:
“do I dare disturb the universe?”
Wrens spring and budding dahlias;
viridian sweetens the air,
and the cerulean heavens
are daubed white and bird-stippled
spit, rinse, and repeat
I am Oedipa in the evening,
as I stand brushing my teeth,
reflection grinning, a siren sounding:
“shall I project a world?”
A summer sun summons skin,
sweat-shimmering and craving cool breezes,
married to shade and mouths perpetually parched,
sowing fast memories with each day’s dawn
spit, rinse, and repeat
I am Prufrock in the morning
as I stand brushing my teeth
reflection glaring, dust plumes on my right:
“do I dare disturb
Leaves fall with the heat;
crepuscular tides and pastel skies,
soaring crows, apples, squash,
timber cracking and floating embers
I am Oedipa in the evening
as I stand brushing my teeth
reflection glowering, tired eyes
“Shall I
Winter’s eve with bitter, biting wind
frigid, grey, gooseflesh, rain,
sleet, snow, silence, cynicism,
once nostalgic, now an obstacle
spit, rinse, and repeat
I am the observer, the daren’t
I am the projector, the auctioneer,
watching the clock’s hands
and millions going hungry,
asking: is this all there is?
spit, rinse, and repeat
sleep, rise, and repeat