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.