Nonsense

the dogs bed was washed several times in various detergents and still it came out with a scent that led me to throw it away.

i closed the trash bin and wondered how i smelled after years of bathing in various scents of deference.

i wondered how many mental trash bins i’d been tossed into and whether the dental records from my carcass could still be salvaged and what if anything it might it mean if they could.

the idea of being a throwaway isn’t something one advertises but on occasion it’s easy to imagine that those talking to me are holding out a trash bag, waiting for me to admit that i belong inside.