no one to blame it on

i see the trail

of me,

the drips

and crumbs,

the cups and plates

left behind,

as i go through the day

into the night.

newspapers

and magazines,

wrappers,

a bowl of grapes

off the vine.

i'll get to it all

at some point.

i'll take out

the broom, the rag,

the vacuum

and get busy,

but without a visitor

on the schedule,

i'm good with it

for now,

i'm fine.