206 - This morning I stood talking to someone

This morning I stood talking to someone,
Not knowing there were wine and baked bean stains
All on my trousers. Then, when I sat down,
I saw the Jackson Pollock-like remains
Of last night’s fare. Awareness, though, contains
The shock of disillusionment; humbled,
I fled towards the bathroom, at great pains
To wash off last night’s grub. So it crumbled,
Dissolving as I scrubbed; water-jumbled;
It fought, then succumbed. Cleansed, the brown stain gone,
The trousers back to pristine green, like plains
Of earth before mankind spilled and stumbled
Darkly across its grass horizon. On
I went, happy like jungles after rains.
Thur 29 Mar 2007