dust inc.

in kathmandu, dust is a fine coat.
the pharmacist will lovingly dust off his medicine bottles as he squints his eyes for the price tag, yes, hundred eighty rupees please, he says, blowing the last dust off the price tag, making sure.
yes yes, 180. it says.
in this day of the hip vintage look, dust helps all kathmanduites: oldify clothes, adding value, adding hippity.
it likes to sit in a row on your shirt collar,
the width of it indicating how long and tough of a day you've had.
when you're hungry, it'll sit in your mouth, in your teeth serving as fine grit.
when you're thirsty, drink water.
when you need that extra pleasure to pass long summer days, dust will give you an eighth of an orgasm as you sneeze it out.
Ms. Ground Pepper? Ah yes, you with the catheter, you may sit down now.
if you wear frictionless shoes like i do, what helps? oh dust.
dust that lies between the slippery monsoon ground and your soles.
and of course we love dusty old souls.
they're tougher. tanner. and when they get hurt, they become chocolaty mud.
delicious.
delicious roadside donuts that now have added earth salt.
dear dust, thank you.