The bottle says Glycerin.
It is not. Unless glycerin turns to
Dust. And while I suppose everything
Can turn to dust in time I hold to my
Intuition that this is not glycerin.
No amount of rubbing the mysterious
Dust into my hands and face will
Bring the luster and softness
Promised. While it may be a secret
Potion, I’ll hold to my lotion.
Shall I disperse it on my calloused
Toes, or sprinkle it on my fiendish
Foes? What evil might it abate
If infused into the white froth of my
Latte, into the coffee of my destiny?
Fortress of Dissolitude 