Ding dong ditch

Sliding across the floor in my socks
Fresh underpants atop my head
Dancing to some song
My father used to play

Broom moving across the floor
Collecting all that I’d discarded
The invisible lint
Transformed into lint aperitif
A delicacy

While grey grinning vans pass
I’m watching from the second floor
Knocking on doors
Ringing doorbells
Fleeing when there’s no one in sight

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