The Carpet Cleaner

I load detergent and hot water

into the carpet cleaner.

These stains must be gone,

there is a white carpet underneath.

A flick of my thumb and the machine

roars to life with a high pitched hum.

Patiently idling at the carpet's edge,

awaiting to clean up the mistakes we made.

With the first pass over a light blue stain,

a memory washed over my mind.

The time that I lovingly tickled you

and you dropped your nail polish.

The first stain gone and now on to the next,

a brown stain from when we added

Jameson to our sex life. The whiskey spun

my insides out with projectile force.

With two stains down only two to go

and it's on to the yellow one.

From the day we brought our puppy home

and he immediately marked his new territory.

Laughter filled my throat as I passed over

the last orange stain. Remembering the food fight

that we had, it's funny how love

turns adults into children.

Now I stand alone, wondering if you would care

if you saw I finally cleaned the carpet.

It is much too late for my honey-do list,

it is much too late for our marriage.

The machine's dirty water catch is full of mixed stains.

The meadow of loving memories is now a filthy blackness.

It is a blackness that I do not want to release

but I know must go down the drain.

The cleaner powered down and I stood next to it at the carpets edge.

It's high-pitched hum slowed to silence,

as a gentle reminder that the work was done.

Until I am ready to color the white carpet again.