I wash my filthy feet in an old bedpan
they are filthy because my backyard is unkempt
and I walk through it like I’m better than nature
I walk through it like there isn’t life under my toes
I threw my shoes in the pool
my house is rented, the pool isn’t even mine
but then again, nothing is

I try to stare out of my bedroom window
I get embarassed when my neighbors see me
because they know what I’m doing
but I’m not watching tv
or owning light blue mid-size sedans
or locking my doors to preserve my portraits
I just want to catch a glimpse of their end of day movements
without them knowing

I wander around the hot coals of my municipality before dawn
and let my toes imagine their quarry
I pretend that I know what it was like
to graduate high school in 1985
while somewhere out there my mother is thinking of me
and somewhere in my backyard
I sit on the edge of my pool making perfect ripples
trying not to let her down