the queen of clean

I have an hour of free
time
before getting back out on the road.
it's good to be busy,
to have work,
to have money to live on,
to play with,
to tuck away beneath
a mattress for a rainy
day, or so i'm told.

I sort through some books,
putting at last
the ones away that helped
me through those dark days.
into the closet they go.
shaking my head at how worn
and battered they all are.

I delete the heart wrenching
diary from my computer, all
the emails that documented
and dominated
the last two years
of my life.
better to think they never
happened than to have
those sad reminders
so close.

I pick up
the laundry on the floor,
gathering socks, and shorts,
shirts and pants,
to the laundry
room they go.
then the cups and dishes,
plates with forks and spoons
upon them, into the sink.

I don't do any deep cleaning
though, being nice I want
to save something for the maid,
the queen of clean,
Milagro.