linoleum heart

i used to walk barefoot
on the linoleum
the sticky beer stuck to me
like men's stuff sticks
there's a kind of dirtiness
one can get used to
i know what lies
in beercans
i used to collect them
when i was a kid
until that night
a man knocked down my pyramid
i know what lies
in the gazes of drunk men
i've collected them
i collect them

i remember playing
with toy cars
i used to crash them
on the linoleum
the way they crashed
him-my dad
who was just an outline
with nothing to fill in
not one crayon
i knew how to draw mom
but how did i draw you dad?
i drew others instead

i used to lie on those older boys
the way ink lies on paper
i could never understand it
maybe it was a metaphor
maybe i was just a good whore
daddy
they never told me different
so i played it
like something innocent

no one ever pays attention
to what stays on their floors
a flake of skin, a pubic hair
dead insects and little bits of food
i used to collect them like treasure
and taste what was good
i'd lie on the linoleum
tracing every pattern
until big boots came in
splattering mud all over
my brown skin
was like that
they'd sweep it
and mop it
my mouth
became the bucket
others tried chlorine
was baptised
but never stayed clean
they didn't want
to pull me back up
so i remained with the soap
scrubbing my skin raw
in the tub
i saw
that i was naked
and i got the blank
sheets all wet

now i'm diseased dad
from all the flesh
i've had
and i'm scratching
i'm itching
but like a dried up pen
nothing comes out
no matter how many times
i confess a sin
for what heart holds him?
and i don't stick
like linoleum
everyone just slips
from my grasp
and i never bother to ask
i just let it all pass
and stand above
naked and dry
as everything meaningful
leaks on by