mormons at the door

as soon as you get home
you make yourself
a highball, then
you unbutton your shirt
and throw it down
the steps to the basement
you unbuckle your
belt pull down the zipper
and step out of your
pants, they too go in a ball
down the steps towards
the laundry room.
your underwear follows,
as does your socks.
you take a long gulp
of your drink, letting
the ice clink against
your teeth,
and standing there
naked without a thread on
you see two mormons
at your glass storm
door in their
coats and ties, white
shirts. they shake their
heads with their little boy
haircuts and keep
knocking. they have
the look of determination
on their faces, as if they
really have some work
to do.