a life in whispers

during his speedo-wearing phase he looked marvelous
and fell in love with listerine: he used
it morning, noon, and night.
**
he swam literally thousands of laps;
won medals, ribbons, and trophies.
**
his love affair with listerine was well-known,
and generally well-tolerated.
**
he tried to make a few bucks out of it, but
the folks at listerine didn't seem all
that interested.
**
later, as his looks began to fade and things began
to sag, he decided that speedos were
completely and utterly out of the question
in terms of self-attire;
he turned to running laps instead of
swimming, and he ran in sweat pants
and sweat shirts -- he didn't look bad, either --
just, well, not as good as he used
to look.
**
soon
he started seeing dust where there was none.
he started thinking maybe dust was
bits and pieces of those who were dead and gone,
but who were not completely gone--
**
lingering, as it were, like
tired footfalls, mildewy
swimsuits, the occasional crinkled & gray pubic hair
clinging
like taxidermy.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011, and currently available at Amazon.)