Don t even

Don’t even try to sell me
these soap and rope.
No Farewell. Don’t tell me
That I shouldn’t hope.

Don’t wash your hands and floor
After me.
Neither put my steps in gold.
I Exist ’n’ Will!

Don’t even think
About me in the past.
Don’t even look
As that day is the last.

Don’t rub your eyes
When you try to smile.
And this cold palm
Is yours – not mine!


____________________
Summer of 2006