men
come over at the crack of ten a.m.
to gut
and renovate
my 1968
bathrooms.
pirates
with earrings
and tattoos,
scars and bellies
full of Maryland food.
crabs
and hushpuppies
most likely,
and cold beer.
they've driven all the ways
from Linthicum,
near Baltimore, in their
big white
vans.
ten hours later.
minus twenty grand,
i'm
standing there
staring into the white
bliss
of a new
tub and shower.
i'll never have to take a bath
with the hose
in the back yard
again.
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