The Exterminator

Nicole walked out of Aladdin’s yesterday
which is why The Exterminator is working

12-8. He claims to have trained himself
to have a perfect, photographic memory.

He has Kool-Aid hair and anime eyes.
After the shift a group of us and

The Exterminator go to Brubaker’s
for drinks and we smoke in his car.

He is no different outside of work.
Constant buzzing, endless movement,

dead wings everywhere. He says
he learned his dancing from night

walks at 3 AM, and we all picture
his headphones in the darkness:

sudden hand movements, a quiet flying
his neighbors would never notice.

(originally published in Children, Churches, & Daddies, Fall 2021)

I Think of Giraffes Sometimes. I Hope They Sometimes Think of Me.

In Kathleen’s apartment in Oregon,
I ask her where even is home?

Clevelanders-turned-transplants,
maybe never knowing.

I see my mom’s mown lawn
in the green fields our baseball

team travels through, my friends
in tweets spitting scores or stats.

These, I don’t care about,
but I join in discussion.

Blue hands to high-five,
then to put my phone down.

 

(originally published in Hobart, Winter 2018)