The Building Manager | Timothy A Robbins

Showing me the apartment, he
explains it’s called a bachelor
and of course I think of the
old days when confirmed bachelor
was code, a polite way to pretend
ignorance of a man’s proclivities.
The kitchenette consists of two
countertops, some cabinets and
a mini-fridge. “I’ll have to wash
my dishes the old-fashioned way —
take them to the river and beat them
on the rocks.” He looks at me blankly
and says there’s no river and I
should use the bathroom sink.
He has an extravagantly muscular
body and a face that’s pretty much
always blank. It’s hard to say
whether he’s content or frustrated
with the gig — a place to stay
in exchange for mopping the
foyer, wiping out the insides
of the washing machines and
collecting the rent checks.
Our next conversation occurs
when I complain about the weekend
noise and he tells me if I don’t
like loud parties I shouldn’t
have moved in next to the campus.
What the hell. I have lots of
guests too, only mine come one
at a time. One day he stops me
by the mailbox and scolds me.
Actually scolds me. Tells me his
little brother is gay but good and
I’m the kind that gives my kind
a bad name. A week later he sees
my friend Tasha in the hall, a svelte
and convincing tranny in Fabletics
running clothes. He stops me
at the mailboxes and asks for her
name and number.

Timothy Robbins teaches ESL. He has a B.A. in French and an M.A. in Applied Linguistics. He has been a regular contributor to Hanging Loose since 1978. His poems have appeared in Three New Poets, Slant, Main Street Rag, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Off The Coast and others. His collection Denny’s Arbor Vitae was published in 2017. He lives with his husband of twenty years in Kenosha, Wisconsin, birthplace of Orson Welles. His collection of poems “Carrying Bodies” is to be published in October 2018 by Main Street Rag Press.