I mashed my canned tomatoes with the butt of the can on the sidewalk where cats walked and old men farted when they were bored and their wives forgot about them in the grocery store in front that also had great sales on crocs and potato wedges that had been premade with my mom's ancient recipe.
My feet were tired. I'd been picked up and slamming down can butts all day, and my butt had been hanging off my waist, suspended by my hips, supported by my gorgeous calfs, atop my miskept feet for the whole day.
Have you ever felt your soul has been walked upon all day?
That's how I felt as I considered my soul.
And the souls of my-