at that other mans' house, where my girlfriend lives,
she sweeps his floor every day. he lifts his feet so she can "get under 'em"

(i would never have her sweep my floor. i couldn't bear to see her bruise her pale knees getting
"into the corners").
then she might have worn a less weary expression

laughed more often.
told more people to fuck themselves. and in a much louder voice.
had i been ready for her, she might have done all of that.

i don't know my girlfriend anymore
but i bet she still does the sweeping every day
frantically, like the broom can erase the stain on her soul

that other man looks right through her

the sweet music of her soul playing over, and over, to deaf ears at that other mans' house,
where my girlfriend lives.