About Plumbing Poem by June Stepansky

About Plumbing



I know more about plumbing
than I ever wanted to know.
I know the insidious sound
of dripping faucets, gurgling drains,
of toilets and sinks overflowing.

My house is orderly, pleasant,
although buried underground
below the level of my consciousness
are thirty year old pipes.
I know that when they break
it will always be on a weekend,
or when I am having dinner guests.

I really want to be mature about plumbing.
I am even determined to be gracious
when the plumbers come tomorrow
to dig up my front lawn.

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