The Cleaners 

Three cleaners in my house.  I don’t know where they came from. They were there. They told me –  never left their hometown.  A new job. Someone calls them. The cleaners are so excited to work out of town.  New territory.  After the call, they move. Standing by the front window, shoulder to shoulder, nudging for space. Waiting for the arrival. A red car comes, stops and blows a horn. The three cleaners, grab supplies and run out the door.

They get into the car. All three in the back seat. The driver looks back and says, seat belts please. The lads are horrified. New words. The driver gets out, opens the back door. He leans over to buckle the boys in – ammonia, bleach and lemons arrest his nasal passages.

The car moves. They sit in the back with their little buckets filled with cleaning supplies between their feet. The car fills with antiseptic and clean fragrances. The boys look at their supplies. Happy they have it all. Back to the excitement.

They are on their way to a house in Galway, Ireland. They sit in the backseat and look out the window leaving their home in the past.  Big journey to the city. Green hills and open fields filled with sheep pass them. They have no idea what the animals are. They’ve never seen one before. They want to ask the driver but control loss fear stops them. One question and they become verdant fields.

They arrive in Galway. So many people they do not know. Where do they come from?The boys only know each other. They go inside the house. Top to bottom, the house is clean in minutes. Blood and brains removed. They are professionals. They ask no questions. The car comes back. They fall asleep in the backseat, buckled tight and buckets at feet.

The cleaners dream a time away. Potions and elixirs. Where does the mess start? They have no idea what they clean, only they must. The green hills and funny animals. Such excitement.

The Border

I’m with this dude – again I can’t see who he is, but I know I have company.  We walk along a thin metal fence, not the sturdiest construction. The barrier made from the wire you’d keep a small pet in, a rodent perhaps. We walk until we find a hole in the fence. The border’s purpose is to stop the flow of traffic.

I’m not sure if I should sneak through or not. What’s on the other side? The unknown. The other dude takes the hole and expands it enough for me to get through. I’m very unsure. My senses are telling me to go. Who’s to argue? I put one foot in the new territory. Then I duck and put my head through and finally, my other foot. I stand up in the new area.  I feel very good. Something whooshed over me. I am reborn. I look behind me, over the fence.  My companion is gone.

I’m in a grassy field. I take a few ginger steps, like I am walking on a newly cleaned kitchen floor with muddy boots.  I see a copse of trees – tall, strong white birch with fine brown layers curled. I walk and as soon as I hit the trees, my world changes.