I sat in the basement eating rice and beansand watching reality television. Four months.
Then I got the job. Useless job, I thought,until I remembered the use and went aheadinto Monday, the future.
Long commute. Roadkill makes me sad,but not as sad as no roadkill, not as sadas naked road for forty Dallas miles.
Good to be out of the basement and into my cheap suit.Both smell of cigarettes and cat piss.
My first day I killed a bug with my boot.Invasive, beautiful, mortally crunchy–I went on with the business of me.
The man behind the desk had a huge face, slantedtoward regularity but finally oily as a fable’s ending.
I did what he said. Sweated. Going nowhere,a dollar a day, and everyone’s tired, andI rented out the basement to a woman who looked like me.