Cleaning the sink by Rich Quatrone

sink

CLEANING THE SINK

Big brother Bob coming to visit tomorrow,
first time I will see his face in five years.
I spoke with him on phone once, maybe a month
ago, maybe longer.

And with big brother will be my nephew Robert,
and my son Eric’s hitching a ride with them

Missing will be my son John.
Where is John?
Oh, John, Johnny, Johnny John,
where are you?

Roy Orbison sings on the stereo.
The woman I love is in North Carolina.
She don’t love me no more.
No she don’t, no she don’t love
me no more.

Cleo the cat, she loves me. Cleo
loves me. She rolls on the floor
while I scratch her belly.
Yeah, Cleopatra, my beautiful
black cat, she loves me

I’m still near the ocean.
Just four blocks from the sea.
The sky is just as big.
The horizon just as wide.

I’m inside cleaning the sink
and cleaning the stove.
I will clean the tub and the blowl,
too.
Because my brother Bob is coming
to visit.

I have work to do out in the world.
The gardening.
The lawyer customer texts and asks
that I feed the flowers and the
herbs and get rid of the damaged
tomatoes.
She was bit by a wasp doing the job
yesterday, she says.
She lives in a mansion near the sea.
And she’s pretty good to me.
The pay is good.
I go each day.
She gives a Christmas bonus.

I’m getting old.
Hell, I am old.
Where is my love?
What should I do?
I’m broke as a bumblebee caught
in the stew.
I’m broke as a grasshopper
caught in the stew.

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