Housekeeping–that being an older
woman, strong regional accent, and a
bearded man learning the ropes, offer
commentary to the wind about the writers,
the cabins they’ve left—
this one used two blankets, but one
bed. That one—
said she was a pediatric librarian
—ever heard such a thing? Who knows
with these types? I think
she’s just retired.

Empty the trash, strip the beds,
do you know that one—with the
googly eyes—she took old books
from each cabin—as if she knew
what’s good to read—me—
I don’t want no one tell’n me
what’s appropriate–
what I can or cannot read. No,
don’t change the temperature,
set it to automatic—

Her golf cart bumps across
the lawn hauling laundry
as the man
ambles toward the dumpster—
where ya going? Where’s
yar car? Well, come on,
ya might as well ride.

We writers, those left
to defend the grounds,
scurry off porches, grab
pencils, slender notebooks,
squawking among us.