Unfortunate Conflict of Interest

The super declared we must
have dropped a foreign
object into the toilet, gesturing
to a miniature Ganesha
sitting serenely on the tank.
He offered to fix it for two
hundred and fifty dollars, under
the table. “This is a favor
I’m doing you. You very
lucky I offer do to this.”
I could hear his pomeranian, fresh
from the DR, yipping
outside the door.
Tracking dirt across
the linoleum, work boots
heavy in the living room,
he creaked open the door.
“You let me know! Our
deal!”

In the dark
stillness of my bedroom,
I stared at the far
wall I’d forgotten to decorate.
I would have thrown
up my hands
but I’d forgotten how.

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