Homeless Hygiene
after a week of homelessness
the confluence of one's bodily odors
carries a humiliation all its own
the scrotum cries out for salvation
When personal sanity must be sacrificed
for uncleanliness is also of the mind
one realizes that poverty is a spiritual state
not disconnected from a corporeal economy
that there is moral poverty
intellectual vacancy
the culturally disinherited
the people in whose minds history
has not taken root
you've got to get some of that gold bond powder
doesn't matter how you get it just do
and some hand sanitizer
take your socks off
rub your feet down until you feel
the heat from the alcohol
then squirt some gel onto a dirty sock
and now the nuts
that's right
focus through the burn
the pain is temporary but the clean
raw feeling lasts into the afternoon sun
Monday, January 31, 2011
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1 comment:
This poem comes from 2008. I lived almost the whole year, beginning in January, in a tent. I was working in a warehouse in Plainfield, IN just north of 70 (west side of Indy). I found a great campsite on the western edge of the airport (between the warehouse district and the airport). I slept there and worked every day in the warehouse, and it was great. In the fall of 2008 the Indianapolis Airport opened its new terminal on the west side, and the Plainfield police came and evicted me. They could have been a lot bigger dicks about it than they were. In early October I moved my tent into the west side of Indy. I found a place near the Tibbs overpass on Washington street next to a car lot with sufficient cover to hide my tent--and parked my car across the street at Rentacenter. That worked fine until the leaves fell off the trees. A few days after Christmas someone burned my tent and all my stuff, which sucked.
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