Clean as My Spit
I redeveloped a long lost skill as I became older
I remembered teachers from grade school
pointing stupid fingers at our despicable habits
spitting was bad, it was wrong
it was lashed out at and frowned upon
like all things misunderstood
but it took on new and sacred life for me
and things were never as absolute as our
simple teachers made them seem
anyways
Thankfully, I found it again
It was an accident really
But I could have been anywhere
and it could be anyone
I would be walking along
Tending business and pleasure
and the men would stop and stare
I would glance once, look away
and I could still feel their black eyes
trying to penetrate me, and for free
It just took one look at their eyes,
those barred shut windows to their loathsome souls
to know what they were thinking.
I had once looked at people the same way
maybe
they were sizing me up
they were fearing me, they were hating me
they were judging me
and they didn’t need to know my track record
or my name, they hated me
So I discovered spitting
Every time I would look away
from these poetic and spiritually delinquent cretins
I would get the vilest taste in my mouth
The old judgments would come back
And I tasted murder in my soul
I needed vengeance and violence
So I would spit
I would spit out the toxic disgust
and I would spit out the poisonous contempt
it was cleansing, it was liberating
and no one knew
It kept us all safe
and I still didn’t want to be bothered by any one
I spit for roses, I spit for flowers
I spit for hours and I spit for free
I seldom had to spit when I felt a woman’s gaze though
I knew what they were thinking
And it was flowers for my brain
candied morphine for my aching organs
I would just swallow
And hope they would do the same