accountant by day

her job, well, her
night job was to keep
them on the line, the
men with their husky
voices and low quick
pants, like animals
trapped in corners,
caught up in something,
or someplace they
shouldn't be. she had
a day job too, and
three kids in elementary
school. please don't
answer, don't every
answer mommy's special
phone she would tell
them when the beep
beep beep of the line
rang through the house.
it's mommy's work, so
let me take this call
in the bathroom, where
she would place a rolled
towel at the bottom
of the door to dull
the sound of her talking
to these strangers, these
men with dark and not
so dark needs of a
sexual nature. please
give me your credit card
number, she'd politely
ask, and your three
digit code on the back
and your expiration date.
and then the clock would
start. sometimes she'd
be in the middle of
folding clothes and
would bring them into
the bathroom with her,
or mixing up a cake
for her daughter's birth
day party the next day,
and she stir while talking
the men into imaginary
bliss. she said that
the money was amazing,
much more than her day job,
but it was taking a toll
on her soul. she was
beginning to hate men.
all men. everyman and
their needs, their secret
desires and lives. once
i get my new car, i'm
done she said. and maybe
a pool for the kids out back.