several face washes

i am told everyone can be clean.
sometimes i scrub so hard
my face comes off & i have to go
on ebay & buy another. 
i'm not in the financial position
to buy a new face. there is a part of me
that enjoys the used ones more. 
i can be hungry in fresh & exciting ways.
standing in the grocery store
like a pillar of salt. have you ever
choked on a peach pit?
died & became a tree?
my fantasies are not advisable. 
i should keep them to myself.
instead, there are amateur scientists 
on my shoulders who say things like,
"what if you just tried a little harder
to become a heron?" the best face washes
are the ones with deadly beads.
it's nice to be sandpapered & raw.
the foam can be nice too. like becoming
ocean skirt hems. i am convinced one
will have the right concoction
to turn me into the little egg
i want to be. something round 
& unopened. put you lovely
rock candy dream down my throat.
i want to be a purple sugar. i want
to be the smoothest asteroid
you've ever been hit by. i often imagine 
my father finding me on the sidewalk
in the form of a real robin.
i am eating his sandwich. he is trying
to shoo me away. dermatologists 
have looked at my skin & said,
"not too bad." a thumb on my cheek.
the meanings of touch are all
about context. in the bathtub
we are both just persimmons
waiting to be mushy & ripe. 
when it's time to eat me
i don't know if anyone would
be able to recognize me. that's what
i want the face wash to do.
make me an epiphany. make me
the one thing everyone is looking for:
a bright buttery release.