I stare down the hall.
Sunlight from the window
glares on the floor to
reveal the coating of dust
that clouds the surface,
particles of dirt and pollen
tracked in on shoes,
or shaken off clothing
as I undress
and slough off dead skin cells--
the minutiae of my life
lying there plain to see.
It lies there until I am moved
to drag out the vacuum and
suck it all away,
only to look down the hall
a day or two later to see
the cloudy coating
staring back at me once more.
