Hands smell like the things they have touched.
Grubby, they are clean.
Because what could be more filthy
Then a human without perfume.
To absorb a smell you must commit.
You must grimace.
You must sweat,
And leave a little of yourself behind.
Wiping your sweaty idle hands on the grass,
In the dirt.
You are clean.
Maybe spit for good measure,
A fresh morning spit.
Grubby, they are clean.
Because what could be more filthy
Then a human without perfume.
To absorb a smell you must commit.
You must grimace.
You must sweat,
And leave a little of yourself behind.
Wiping your sweaty idle hands on the grass,
In the dirt.
You are clean.
Maybe spit for good measure,
A fresh morning spit.
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