The photo is from 1978. My son, his truck. Behind him, my truck.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Handyman Sketches: Gal in Twenty, Mucking

Don't Blame Me, I'm Just Here to Fix the Garbage Disposal: Part Two

The Gal in Twenty

Manager Larry says, "The gal
in Twenty is crazy. 
I hate her.  She’s throwing a fit.”
"What should I do?"
"Humor her.  Fix something.
It's the same old shit."

A towel rack is loose,
the shower head dribbles,
a door latch won't catch,
so many quibbles;
the vent fan rattles,
she can't switch on the light,
the phone has no tone.
She's entirely right.


Mucking with a garbage
disposal as the young woman
applies make-up in her slip
— lush lips! —
ignoring me
while her roommate showers,
emerging damp-haired,
wrapped in a towel.
I exist as a handy
not as a man.

Note: Among my contracting jobs, for many years I've served as the on-call handyman for a group of townhouse-style apartments — or rental units — or whatever one should call an enclosed square of two-story dwellings in a subdivision of Sunnyvale, California.  It's steady money.  As a minor league writer, I need that.
I tried to summarize the experience in prose, but verse seems to work best.  Most of the events took place in the 1980s though a few are more recent.  This is Part Two of a series.

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