Sex the Answer?
I know your job is absurd.
I get that. Yes, and lonely.
Drifting from suburban house
To slumlord hovel, ridding both
Of the common scourge of pests.
You tell me of walls that throb like
A heart, beating with the pulse of roaches.
With your fingertips, you kill the ant
That's crawling on my arm as I write you a check.
Is this what it's about? These moments
Of bravado and stolen touches?
These knightly rescues?
Is it all running after spiders and mice
While women shriek on chairs,
Like the cartoons would have us believe?
Or is it, as the brochure wants me to think,
The scientific pursuit? The mixology?
The war games? We talk ant psychology,
Discuss the folk remedies I've tried
Before surrendering to the expert,
But I don't dare ask what motivates you
To kill for me.
Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's
Previous Poem -- Next
Poem -- Table of Contents