Pest Control

the yellow van

pulls up

in front of my house and a large

man

with black rimmed

glasses

climbs out.

there's a picture on the van

of an insect

being squashed under

a boot.

the eyes of the cartoon bug are

ex 'ed out.

Pest Control,

the name says.

we kill them all so that you

don't have to.

he carries up

the sidewalk a cannister

of spray

with a hose,

and says,

so, whereabouts?

it's ants, i tell him.

harmless, i suppose, but

i see a line

of them in the morning

marching in the kitchen,

carrying crumbs out.

he salutes me as if a private

going into battle

then comes in,

he circles the house, spraying,

with his mask

pulled tightly down.

when he finishes, he hands me

a business card,

it's my wife's business, he says.

she cleans houses

by the hour.