The Flyer

When Nathan was two, he flew through
the windshield of his drunk father's car.
Now, at thirty-two, he's still flying,
down the hallway, through the office,
the kitchen, the cafeteria and back again.
When I get to work he greets me at the door
and when I reach my desk he's there offering
to hang up my coat. We've stopped asking,
Where are you supposed to be ?

Most of the time we don't mind him being
around and we all tell Nathan stories,
like when Cliff asked, Where's Dave ?
and he answered, Last I saw him he was talking to me,
or the time at his PCP meeting when
he interrupted the droning case worker
with, So, I'm screwed, right ?
He notices your haircuts and for five whole
seconds seems legitimately interested
in what you did on your day off,

But, there's no denying Nathan's been hard on us.
He wrenches your back when he gives you a hug
and punches a hole in the wall when you cross him.
How many staff meetings has someone said,
He doesn't belong here ? I've said it myself
a dozen times.

I get on my high horse asking
What do we really teach him, anyway ?
Pointing out that he still doesn't wipe the toilet seat
after pissing on it and no one's volunteered
to work on that.

But why shouldn't the floor staff prefer
the ones who stay in their chairs all day ?
Who's giving out the medals
for working with Nathan ?