May 31, 2022

troubleshooting

Trust me, I’d like to destroy every single gun in this country. I imagine a crucible the size
of a suburban backyard, and a fireman’s brigade of handoffs until the final pitch
into a glowing, molten mass, and the tilting back of thousands of cups of pale lemonade
and a bake sale table where everything is free and turns everyone’s fingers sticky
with toffee and chocolate. Instead, I’m watching Ray drill a perfectly round hole
into our picnic table to fit the pole of the new teal-colored umbrella, because even though
he was here to fix the leak in the upstairs shower, he has a few minutes to spare and a tool
I do not have to do the job myself. However large my ambitions, there are places I can’t
reach, tears in the pipes I can’t see, bolts too stiff to turn. When Ray leaves, I fan the
umbrella out as far as it goes and sit in the shade, wondering what to do with my hands.