Magic Eraser, Magic Eraser
O how I love thee,
How you clean impossible grime
remains a mystery.

Small and white and wet are you
as I scrub my countertops
gone are stains of yesteryear
un-conquered by sponge or mop.

How is it that you clean so well
with no abrasive grit?
Even all my friends believe
That you’re the effing sh*t.

If you, dear reader, have yet to partake
then hesistate no more
And marvel at the shiny sheen
of your counters, sinks & floors.

If Mr. Clean was flesh and blood
I’d do him on the spot
For he knows ways to please a woman
that lesser men do not.

So if you find yourself at the store
standing in the cleaning aisle,
Pick up a box of Magic Erasers,
then clean your house and smile.

© Rebecca Goings

~~Becka