Cleaning Lady

Gregg Williard

Fall 2009

The cleaning lady steps off the bus and thinks, “That man’s voice sounds the way shoe polish smells.” She walks to the office building she cleans and thinks, “A witch is just a female bartender ahead of her time,” and “Chicken manure spells the beginning of the End Times,” and, “Ship of Fools is a book by Katherine A. Porter,” and, “My sister dated Hitler,” and, “Rob Petrie washed the Petri dishes,” and, “13 Ghosts required blue and red glasses,” and, “Are you a Mexican or a Mexican’t?” and, “Are you a muffin mom or a muffin maun?” and, “Swing your part, nerd!” and, “Of bicycles there can be no richer sport, than to speak of spokes clothes-pinned with a royal flush,” and, “Live life as if the next toilet is the Grail,” and, “The story of the saints is written in menstrual blood that sings Karen Carpenter,” and, “The bent prong is like a curl in every port,” and, “Loss of tattoos is the boss of taboos,” and, “Of algorithms and albinos,” and, “The stop here bucks,” and, “The California paint comes in no-fault flamingo and rose.” She goes into the office building, down to the basement, opens the housekeeping closet, rolls out her cart and gets to work.

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