FIXING

BY JAY CALHOUN

…Must’ve been all the sex.
Says she.

Cute and quick
Her light response to the split sagging bed,
And the old bolt that once held the frame-halves together.

Maybe…,
Says he.
Tired,
Not wanting one more thing to fix.

She hands-over the pieces:
One quarter-inch bolt,
Bent
With it’s sheared-off head.

…Really lasted a long time,
She offers,
…Since before the kids.

He slowly folds his knees and back,
Making a floorward move.
Half-under with legs out,
Like some auto mechanic in dress shoes.

…Maybe we should have had more sex,
He grunts.
…And broke this when I was young enough to fix it.

…Careful, old boy
Says she,
rubbing the ratchet up his arm.

…Stop that.
He growls,
But under the bed,
He’s smiling.

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