Email Poem

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Poem


I've never been good with things.
Electric toothbrushes need a lot of thought,
Some honey jars 
need more passion to open then I have.
Putting things together
is not my thing.
I break easy when mending.

I shine at midnight.
My hands 
become as flexible as sea anemones.
Words look from my eyes,
or else I tend to fall in love,
with dead dogs, or roadkill.

By morning I am asleep
in my body again.
Skills scream and flee,
as I stumble towards 
their small heartbreaking hopefulness.

I am good at twisting things together.
like knotty ropes and thin threads,
people come to me
(mostly the young and naïve),
Arrive riding skateboards through hilly clouds.
They come to admire, my left-handed life,
soon they turn away,
unconvinced
by my slack grasp upon reality,
with the way I insist that their petty wrongs,
are right ways to go.

I try to lead by example - by failing.
Friends let me off easy,
They quietly
cleanup all the odd bits and pieces
that I could not hammer together.

That list keeps getting longer.

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