bat attack

After the all-clear was sounded
and we opened the doors,
and stumbled blinking out
of our bunkers,

after we feted the hero
who plucked the darting
villain out of the air
with a snapped hand towel,

we sighted another miscreant
swooping around the basement:
made its way up to the main floor
before we could call battle stations.

Crap.

They seem to come in pairs.
I don’t know what real
estate agent gives them
our address and a key
to the front door—
or is there a map
of our access points
in Google Maps?

Here I go with the towel again;
it’s the hot weather:
it’s a damn curse.