Garage

My garage is my space. Strewn with tools on a wooden bench soiled with oil from all the gas engines I’ve repaired over the years. As I learned from my father, you need three things for an engine to work: gas, air and spark. When an engine stops, the challenge begins. Which one of them is missing? As the internet has taught me, there is probably a youtube video that can troubleshoot the problem. On this day, my patient was Ann’s garden vehicle. When it’s not running, Ann’s gardening is more difficult. Never wanting to fix the same thing twice, sometimes I am so sick of fixing things…

For the third time in many years
I stood in my garage
abreast a broken machine
Struggling to contain the anger
That I
once again
am left to fix it.

Sometimes
there is joy
to overcome and fix
some broken things

Things
that take a Saturday
and no longer.
Things
that celebrate
a clever and simple remedy

But this machine
is not broken like before
Thats how I see it
Perhaps a deception
to learn something new
Or hiding
from last years failings.

And so
the adventure to begin
A study of troubleshooting guides
And DIY videos
firsts steps and seconds.
Pictures to see
what wasn’t obvious...
Labeled and detailed
for a beginner.

And then
my mind sees the way
The way
to undo the bolt
in that first step
To grab the tool
and twist my arm
and to stick my hand
in that narrow gap.

I pull the on the wrench
despite my fingers protests
And then
I see
the edges of that clamp
I see
the dangers in that moment
And then,
the screw breaks free

...comes the pain
It could have been
the thick tough palm...
Not this time...
A quick gouge
pulls a flap
from the back of my hand.

Fuck!!!

How bad is it?
I saw this coming
I should
have stopped pulling

I could have had
someone else fix it
The ones
who take the pictures
And label them
They fix things

As I wash my cut
I’m reminded
Your machine
is not in a book.
There are no labels
in my garage.


It’s not the picture
or the words
that fix a machine

No,
it’s the hands
that turn the wrenches
It’s the muscle
that aches
when there is no access
It’s the blood
that comes
from your knowing force
It’s the bandage
that allows
your work to continue

It’s the scar
that reminds you
of this
and...
that you’ve fixed things before.