the short statured cleaning lady with dysmorphic features and the foul mouth

the short statured cleaning lady with dysmorphic features and the foul mouth

was in my office
when i came in this morning.

like a blowfish she puffed
whenever she
moved.

she swore when she
couldn't open the soap
dispensing
unit,

loudly -
it pierced the bubble
of my outlook express.

do i offer to help her?

a quiet glow of admiration
for the battle for
survival


hey at least she's
fighting

(for about ten dollars an hour?)

"FUCKING HELL!"
and the glow was gone.

the vacuum howled
its closet cloud around
me and suddenly
my shoes

looked so disgusting
as i remembered their price tag
and so inappropriate
like clown shoes
at a funeral.





do i move? what do i do?

she finished.
the room stank.
but my soap
dispensing unit
was full.



"sometimes i wish i could just evaporate...."

she said, to the walls, possibly
to me.


what do i say to someone like her,
when she says something like that?

just be!

the tense changes.

i just turn and give her my attention.
she doesn't notice.
the moment passes.