I am the man who takes out the garbage,
It's a husband's job, I know.
To take care of bees and catastrophes
Such as toilets that overflow
The dead mice and rats who lie in the traps
I'm the one who carries them outdoors
I walk around with my hand in a baggie
Following this dog of yours.

You married a farmboy cause we are not fazed
By hair in the traps in the sinks
Or bats that come flapping at night when you're napping
Or anything ugly that stinks.
I'm your dog-walking rat-catcher spider-mashing lover
And at night we climb up the stair
And we join hands in an elegant dance
And we fly away through the air.

Poets are nice, so are theologians
Who know about predestination
And singers are fun but you need someone
Who can take care of sanitation.
A man who can grab a rat by the tail
Without bothering to put on a glove
He may not talk about Rilke or Bach
But he's someone a woman can love.

When your high-toned eye-rolling ladida companions
Look at me and say, "Who's he?
Who's the guy with the work gloves carrying the bucket
Who smells of dog poop and pee.
You say "He's my lover, my beautiful lover,
For years we enjoyed an affair
And in a few hours, after he showers,
We'll go flying off through the air.

Life is replete with small tawdry details,
Death and disease and distress,
Dogs come and pee and kill the nasturtiums
But life is good nonetheless
Take your dog-walking rat-catcher, spider-mashing lover
Wash him, put flowers in his hair
Pour a glass of wine, sit down and dine
On a salad and a sirloin steak (rare)
Enjoy your food with a Chopin etude
And then climb up the stair
And you can join hands in an elegant dance
And go flying off through the air.

Oh yes he manages the small tawdry details of life
And then he astonishes his wife.