So it occurred to him that he
could
use a hammer for the job, which
previously
he did not consider.
He had lots of fancy tools in the
shed
and he felt stubborn about them.
But since his divorce he longed
to become
familiar once again with the
objects around him.
It is in deep humiliation, he
thought,
that a man discovers his
resources, his reserve.
The work was difficult and time
went slowly.
He felt his shoulders struggling
with the angle.
Pieces of the wall fell about his
feet.
By the time the vague smells of
dinner
filled the block his hands
burned.
He had a bright red cough.
And he could not stop the naïve
thought
that with all his average
comforts he could not use
the simplest thing.
The day was waning. New shadows
plucked at his eyes. He felt
humbled, afraid.
But then his neighbors might save
him, revive him
with their kind thoughts. Like
sun dogs
they bellied into his fantasy,
bright casseroles of distraction,
arms pushing
through his bent screens: Why
he is no stranger,
no sadder than I am.
