I’m hiding in the janitor’s closet at work
April 29, 1975
I sit on a bucket turned upside down
and look at the fire sprinkler
in the ceiling
and ponder,
how much water it would spray
if I was on fire.
Two mops upside down
hang on hooks,
their strings fall loose from
their heads.
I listen to the drip
in the sink
next to the long box containing
large plastic bags,
and I am quiet
thinking how men
can listen to their own breath
in silent dim cells.
The brick wall blurs
and all I can see is the
rotary buffer darkened in the corner
with its cord wrapped around its neck.
Ritch Kepler