Garden Apartment Redemption

I solemnly received my first toilet auger As if it were a knight’s well-tempered sword. It meant I’d passed my ninety-day audition, And seemed to me a suitable reward. And so began my tenure working maintenance In the nasty nitty gritty of a toxic circumstance. But I’d scored a small apartment, living duty-free, So, it was time for starting over’s second chance. A thousand plus apartments needed tending. When a work ticket printed, I called dibs. Seventy buildings built of brick and dreams. I was privy to the skivvy in all those skeevy cribs. I’ve encountered many silent tribal totems: Hindu murti, Christian chi rho, Muslim script. But no matter the religion of the trouble call, For every useful purpose, I came suitably equipped. There were feral cats, roaches, and bedbugs Infesting hoarders’ floorspace wall-to-wall. I dealt as best I could with the detritus, But my biggest stress was over-night on-call. While paying the price of complete independence I may sometimes have hammered my thumb. Though I may be a hack in the handyman trade, I conducted my final campaign as my army of one. And I came off a winner.