Ex-Sponge

I wrote this about a few months ago it was a double edged sword ... about my ex girlfriend and as I realize now, perhaps, a metaphor for my past and changing life

I went from the cupboard to the pantry in one swift move. I envy the broom and it’s thankless efforts. He makes it look easy. I suspect my father was of stick-and-hair ancestry but I can’t be sure..

I was an ex-sponge, but a happy one as far as I know. I could soak up the spills from the careless shoe, or eat the mildew left in the hall corner. Of course, I had to compete with a German Praying Mantis named Dolores. She liked to complain about her aching legs. She had 3,001 children afterall. O, how I miss those days. Sunshine pouring into my worn yellow holes and abrasions. The sound of the rain like a crying purple ghost with a megaphone.. a ghost with a story.. a story that went untold until now. Of course, I won’t share it with you here, not now, not in my position. If I was of rank, somewhere higher up in the appliance hierarchy, perhaps. Then, but only maybe. I imagine that this particular purple ghost, Charles Hendrick, sensitive as he is, having lost his ghost-friend; wouldn’t appreciate such leakage. As I tend to leak, the ex-sponge I am, things could get messy. No, I wasn’t meant for indiscretion. I had a clean record. I was meant to scrape by day after day, dish after dish.
It was my time. Into the drain I go to travel first class through the pipes and systems of the great unknown. Soon I would squeeze my middle and pop up into a new home where seashells lined the walls and Australian Shepherds roamed protectively. I would be replaced by the automatic dish-washer (Appliance of the future) .. I would be forced into obscurity, not necessarily needed but not necessarily forgotten. I would sit and brown. I was a happy sponge and those WERE exciting days �" but I knew my time would come.