your wife sold me your toolbox
aged Craftsman three-drawer classic
perfectly dented and rusty
heavy with assorted tools
she wouldn’t take more than $20
said you were a small-engine mechanic
who would want it to be used
(I assured her it would be treasured, too)
sold me a pair of cufflinks, too,
admiring, I asked if there were more
she just chuckled
while your daughter smiled
said, “No,” the only fancy things
were Christmas gifts
he probably never wore them
you just take them now
today, under a bright blue sky
I gave the lawnmower a tune-up
changed the oil, replaced a cable
child’s play for you, I’m sure
without even trying
I found the 13/16ths sparkplug socket
right where it should be
exactly where you left it
I’m sure you weren’t
the kind of man
who wrote poems about oil changes
(and certainly not about cufflinks)
I just wanted you to know
it was a beautiful day
in the neighborhood
Posted in: NaPoWriMo
i have no idea how you keep doing this, making the smallest things suddenly large enough to live inside of, you are a strange and wonderous superhero