Don’t ask me whyI always think of youwhile washing dishes.I don’t associate youwith cleaning,or preparing food,or enjoying a meal.Each time, I thinkI should callor write you an emailor a postcardbut my handsare in hot waterand I get distractedwhile towel-drying,forgetting againuntil the next time.At leastI wash a lot of dishesso that meansI think of you often.Sometimes I thinkI should hit the road,show up at your placeunannounced.But there’s too manydisheswaiting to be washed,too many waking dreams,solitary imaginingsprobably betterleft to the imagination.
For Corey’s prompt to the Real Toads: Persons of Interest