Wrench

A wrench in the words.
Work out the gears that stop life abruptly.

Rusty corrosion grinds and pushes me to a hault.
I no longer want to oil this tedious machine.

If a little friendly grease lubricates our issues,
be sure the wrench will be thrown in again.

It's a faulty contraption...
this life of ours.

It is the flat tire.
Empty cigarette packs.
The woman who stole your love.

Pockets full of pennies.
Illness and storms.
Lack of alcohol.
Everyone who forgot your birthday.
Broken drafty windows....

The gears jump the track.
That wheel off kilter.

Spoiled milk in your coffee.
Deadbeat fathers.
Shut off notices.
Neighbors who cut down your favorite tree.
Locks with lost keys.
Wet newspapers.
Barron dirty refrigerators.

It all ran so smoothly until those loose
tools came along.
I'm amazed I ever kept this vapid machinery moving.
I take a deep, diesel contaminated breath-
reach my hands to pull out the travesty,
and struggle to nudge these fittings forward.