Pg. 47 — VISITORS by Lawrence Miles
I was the new person in the mailroom
And there were four of five others.
They all seemed to know each other.
The work was divided up so I hardly interacted with them.
One day I overheard their conversation.
It seemed one of them was dealing with
An intruder in their apartment.
“I tell you
I was in bed and I looked up
And there were two or three of them
Just staring over me!
“They looked just like in the Enquirer!
They were green and had big eyes!
I think they enter my apartment when I’m here and
Wait for me to come home!”
Nobody thought he was crazy.
“You sure they haven’t probed you?” one of them said.
“No, unless they do it when I’m sleeping
But then they’re gone the next morning!”
“What are you gonna do, man?”
“I’m gonna set up some cameras with some tripwires. I’m gonna get photos of them in the act!”
“Great idea, man, we’ll help you out!”
Then they would all go to lunch together.
This continued for a few days.
I never told them they were crazy because
It was five against one.
Then I was told I wasn’t needed anymore.
It was a temp job.
I never saw anything about it in the papers afterwards, not even the Enquirer.
As I went home on the train, I thought that I would have welcomed alien visitors to my tiny apartment.
As long as they made a meal once in a while and helped clean the bathroom, we could have discussed other arrangements.
Lawrence Miles
Lawrence is a poet living in White Plains, NY.
