Watching Jim’s hands,

oil-streaked and rough,

I am lost in the realization

that, I, intentionally

and with malice,

would’ve broken the door assembly

before figuring out how to take it off properly.

It’s the knowing that I lack;

what can be forcibly pulled out,

and what needs to be unscrewed,

and where, exactly, are the screws anyway?

Twenty minutes later,

I leave with the rear, driver’s side window back in place.

I never have been handy.

My father always told me so.

It’s not his fault

I believed him.

 

© by William Robertson.

Used with the author’s permission.