The Dutch Floor, Circa 1984.

The Dutch Floor, Circa 1984

And we still had the floor that the Dutch

Had given to us three decades ago-it sat

Morose in a corner in the living room of our

House, where we walked on it every day.

It wasn’t the kind of floor that squeaked.

It was quiet as a whisper on a cold night,

Where I would lay naked in bed, drinking

Vodka or a Tequila, wishing I was with

Someone, wishing I wasn’t by my lonesome,

Wishing for thousands of dollars.

The floor would be there still, looking up at

Me forlornly as if to say, “Get off your ass,

You lazy bum!” because it was a floor and

It didn’t know anything about jobs or working

Or paying taxes, because it was a floor and floors

Didn’t know about such things.

I wondered about the Dutch who brought it to us

All those summers ago, if they were still alive,

If their children had children, if their children’s

Children had dogs and toy cars.

That’s what I thought about on those lonely nights

In bed, while the Dutch flooring muttered to

Itself in its own room.