From a Freshly Scrubbed Floor

my good friend Olivia and I have started to find writing prompts in an attempt to save our creative writing habits from dying away forever (thank you, post graduate and non-inspirational life). This prompt was to write from the view of a freshly scrubbed floor. I ended up writing this brief (& pretty lousy) poem about the cafe...it can be read from the perspective of a floor, but it can also be read from my (the barista's!) perspective. here it goes, who knows:

they come and they go
the old woodwork rotting into
brown coffee in brown
mugs and brown counter tops,
the grit from important and
careless shoes that
walk

all over me on a daily basis,
these walls dripping orange
now, so dulled as i spill
coffee across my skin

it kills the pores
covers the dirt with grounds
hot grains of brief pain.

they come and they go.

in other news, a recent music suggestion is TV on the Radio - amazing! and Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes. I will leave you with this song that I can't, for the life of me, stop listening to (warning, it's a strange song). It's just so...great.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHKuB85EgnI