Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

each time I passed by

dirty dishes in the sink
were just the same
as the day before, plus
a bowl or two on top of the pile

as I approached the crusty sculpture
there was always this dream in my heart
that they would have been washed
and were now sitting perfectly happy in the drying rack

but they never were,
and I kept walking by day after day
always expecting a different result, and so
I seem to fit the classical definition

It's not craziness, it's bachelorhood.
Or is that the same thing?

The kitchen is my workshop, so I keep it in some semblance of order.

The dusting, however... the vacuuming...

...not so much

here's to crazy reclusive bachelorhood

in hypnotic phase
dishes become one with hands
meditative wash

Warning! Politically incorrect statement follows!

I can't help but recall the words of my first father-in-law, about 1963:

"I married a dishwasher, I raised a dishwasher, I bought a dishwasher, and I'm not washing a dish in this house."