basic carpentry

basic carpentry

I still cannot decide whether or not I would take carpentry instruction from a man missing the first two digits of his right hand.

I met that man today, in a meeting where everyone else had full and complete sets of limbs and one must assume toes by the confident manners of their gaits.

But not one of them could tell you the difference between a rabbet joint and a dado.

Still, I cannot decide if I should teach my children about love, because when I enter the classroom and they look at my sleeve, surely they will notice all the broken pieces. Confidence questioned is confidence lost.

I cannot tell if those lost fingers make him better for the teaching.

Broken, like hearts and love and passion and goddamn I bet they could teach me a thing or two. A dozen excuses, and, sadly, not more than one or two good reasons.

It’s just that it’s so easy to draw metaphors from fire and water and wind, and so unfortunate that we’re mostly surrounded by kitchen appliances, office supplies and billboards.

And I still cannot decide.