I was once awakened

by the wild waving of your hands

at a swarm of bees

attacking in your dreams..

 

I once listened as you cursed me

semi-weekly in your drunkenness

and railed against the heavens

and the very earth that supported your step.

 

And, on a morning so many years ago,

I stood by you as your naked hands

twisted metal against metal

in the bitter Lake Erie cold..

 

I was hopeful for you

when you finally finished the task

then closed the hood.

 

I stood there,

my four fingers trapped--

looking as if they'd disappeared

into the mottle of duct work and wiring

that lay under the hatch..

 

I can't remember if I yelled--

I only remember thinking

about how I would gather

the possibly disjointed members.

 

I watched you run silly,

in my continuing silent distress

and, like a cartoon animation,

I saw you change direction three times

 

before you finally found

your way back to the car

to open the latch.

 

You reached to me as if in askance

to inspect the limp appendage

now hanging like a broken paw..

 

but--as you now well know--

I would never again

let you touch me

with those careless

clumsy hands.