Don’t float. When I was a kid the white
Rectangular bar of Ivory soap floated.
It didn’t slither down reptilian between
My legs where I needed to go scavenging
For the soap in the dirty water among
The filthy (some would say “unholy”)
Body parts. Soap that floated was surely
A white middle-class conspiracy
Designed to hide the sacred mysteries of life,
Taught to me at last by the good Reverend,
Little Richard and others of his denomination.
How good kids have it in the 21st Century,
Diving into the Tao of all there is, learning
About himself or herself simply because
A bar of Cactus Mary’s Hand-Crafted Soap