How Do I Tell How Free I Am

.
.
The makers of soaps
know the smell of clean
and manufacture all
their cleaners with it.
.
The grease of 
my life is my enemy,
my nostrils do a 
primitive quiver.
.
But I feel it bust away
with the foaming edge of my
cloth and the fragrance of
clean liberates my breath.
.
The burst of bubbles and
the squeek of fingers on glass
tell  me how
free I am.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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