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do not walk bare on ashes;
never, as in not ever,
as in do not walk with bare feet over ashes.
i could tell you why, but
does that really matter?
you're just a stupid kid, and
i, i, i, apparently stutter, but i
also know that clean feet run fleets, and
loose lips sink ships, and
walking on ashes is nothing like
walking on sunshine,
the latter leaving nothing more
than a catchy tune trapped amidst
the undulations of soft, spongy tissue
better known in english as "the brain,"
while the former leaves mounds of
black soot imbedded firmly between
the upper skin of toes and
the lower calcification of nails,
immune to the scrubbings,
pickings, and soakings
brought by ten grown fingers
over six grown days--
six days too many to carry the
ominous signs of death and pollution--
until finally taking one last pass
around the bathtub drain and back again
in swirls of softened darkness, and
then out to the fishes, and
ashes, ashes, we all fall
down.