What We Talk About When We Talk About the Maid

When we talk about the maid

We talk about her hair

How it’s never quite the same color

From week-to-week

We talk about her temperament

Friendly but firm

Like Mary Poppins

But without the umbrella

We talk about what a good job she does

With the space

Between the refrigerator

And the oven

That space we can never get to

No matter how hard we try

Of course, we don’t try

Why would we?

We have a maid for that

When we talk about the maid

We talk about what we think
Her husband must be like

And whether or not

She even has a husband

Or if she’s single

And if she is
Is she happy
Being single?

She seems very independent

And she certainly isn’t

Afraid of hard work

One of us told her a joke

And she smiled

Then told us a dirty joke

And we thought that was sexy

Can we say that?

Can we say that it was sexy

The way the maid

Told a dirty joke

And wasn’t worried at all

That maybe we might be offended

Or that maybe we would
Terminate her employment?

Maybe she doesn’t care

Maybe we aren't
Her only clients

Maybe we’re just one
Of many, many couples

Whose houses she cleans

Maybe there’s a waiting list of people

Who want her to clean their houses

So that if we ever fired her—

Oh forget it

Forget it

It’ll never happen

We’re keeping her

We’re keeping her forever

And she’s sexy

And we’re sorry

But she is

When we talk about the maid

We sit in bed

With books in front of us

That we can’t seem to read

Reading glasses
Slipping down our noses

The covers pulled up to our waists

Making us look like people

Buried in sand

And it doesn’t help

That our blankets are the color of sand

And that the walls are painted ocean blue

Sometimes before we fall asleep

We pretend the maid is tucking us in

And it sends us into the deepest slumber

We’ve ever had

And sometimes we make love

And each one of us

Calls out her name

To the other

But we never plan it that way

And we never talk about it afterwards

And we’re terrified of what would happen

If we did

When we talk about the maid

We talk about her nails

Never polished

But always clean

Tap, tap, tapping

On the kitchen counters

As she surveys the room

To see what needs

Extra attention

We talk about her shoes

White sneakers

That are never smudged

Or dirty

Even when it’s raining outside

And the walkway leading up to our house

Has mud all over it

We talk about how she hums

Along with music

That isn’t there

A song we swear we know

But we’re too afraid to ask about

Because we don’t want to let her know

We’ve been listening to her

Watching her

Studying her every move

The way she focuses on a carpet stain

The way she finds dust neither of us noticed

The way she moves from room to room

Like somebody performing a waltz

In and out

In and out

Until she’s done

And then she informs us

--Very nicely—

That she’ll see us in a week

When she’s not here

All those loathsome

Leftover days

All we do

Is talk

About her

When we talk about the maid

We talk about how clean

She makes us feel

How new

How nice

How noble

Like fresh linen

Like a leather armchair

Like a mahogany closet

Like a glass coffee table

With the Windex smell

Still floating off it

We talk about how

Everything she touches

Becomes sterilized

And humanized

At the same time

And we wonder

Who’s doing that

For her

We wonder

Who walks into her home

And scrubs away

What worries her

And we wonder what she talks about

When she talks about

Us