October 14, 2025

repair

The machine is old. I’m in over my head, surely, with nothing but
a cloth I will daub in a liquid that smells of false citrus. The ink has long
run dry. The keys stick. Rust has jammed the turning mechanisms.
There are places where dust has hardened into a thick paste.
Some might think the task fruitless, the tools defunct.
But what else am I to do with my hands?