A girl with a clay head hovering close to my sponge hovered closer & whispered:
"You are just like all the others, are you not?"
I said, "Do you want a light?"
She said, "Do you have a light?"
"No."
"I like you a lot," she said, and to show it she put her feet through the burn-hole & onto my lap. "Pay me a compliment," she hissed.
"These feet are pretty. Are they all yours? Do you clean them? Do you boil them & bleach them?"
She grimaced teasingly. "I only bleach my ear-wax. Does it notice?"
I said, "Put your ear close to my hole," & she did just that.
I entered her dainty left ear and explored. Gripping hairs to stay balanced, I paddled amonst the echoes of all the conversations this girl-woman had ever casually instigated. They ended abruptly, every last one.
"Well, yes," I continued, answering a question she had at one time posed to a dark journalist hanging from hooks.
"You are sensitive! You notice all the little things."
Returning to the sponge and the present, I noted the following:
"You have no knees & you have no elbows. Where are your knees & your elbows?"
"(You are considerate!) It is my work, you see. I am a sand-paper-tester. Actually, as I understand it, I have recently been promoted. I am now a sand-paper-grader." She blushed easily. "They tell me there are more hours & more perks. And I receive money. I tell them I don't care for it, but they insist. They are kind. (You are kind!) They give me flowers every day. More than I can use. I am a lucky girl!"
I said, "But you are not a clever girl, are you?"
She blinked then, & continued:
"I have many responsibilities. I unlock the factory gates in the morning, & if anyone arrives late I am allowed to execute them on the spot. (I never have, of course. Only the partners arrive late & I would never execute a partner.) I also park the cars & unload the delivery vehicles. Is that not marvelous?"
"Not in the least."
"(You are perceptive.) I serve lunch at lunch-times & tea at tea-times. I am the Asian cloak-room assistant & the friendly security officer who batters his wife. I am the ugly-mouthed man who looks in on Wednesdays to take the bugs out of the computers. (You have enormous hands. I do like them.) I am the jolly-cockney window cleaner who has never had a girlfriend, the orange-lipped secretary who makes so many mistakes, the greasy post-boy who smells of chips & studies encyclopedias; & the dashing accountant who even the Vietnamese cleaners despise. Occasionally, I exhibit myself during conferences - & next month I start laying a new sewer-network under the old-wing. (But your nostrils flare & your pores are gaping. You pinch my feet.) Why do you pinch my feet?"
I shifted my position: "I admire your language but cannot condone the lifestyle you lead. I respect the tongues you employ but your loose flesh makes me crawl. Your teeth are discoloured; & I believe you are dishonest. Empty your pockets."
"Anything."
She spread the contents of her pockets before me. I laughed aloud for the first time. The world beyond the sofa fell silent. Everything she owned had at one time belonged to me.
I said, "You are unfaithful; I wish to couple with you."
"Just as you please," she whispered.
"Enter my sponge," I hinted; & I prepared the Sponge.
"You are more like all the others than all the others," she coolly said, & just like that she floated away.
Only her eyes were wide & possibly regretful. They appeared moist, then glassy, then stony cold as she floated out through the wide-open window.
There are so many women in the world, I thought; & I was easy for an instant...


(From the short story SOFA SPONGE)