Curbstoner

I remember standing there,
leaning by a shirtless man
holding spanners and a beer
where crankshaft shadows
twist and crawl to flee the sun.
Watching a young kid’s arm
argue with the starter rope
of a broken old gas mower.
No spark, no grass to cut,
just a boy in need of sweat.
Used water pump: ten bucks.
Even saved the old gasket.
Sunburned half my white ass
cursing the part into place.
Finished just in time to toast
the sunset on my lovely lawn.

 

April, 2013

 

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