September 26, 2011
By Anonymous

I prop up the hood of my Chevy truck;
And much to my dismay, my wrench just got stuck.
I'm a gear head;
Don't give me some needle and thread.
Oh, to fix my truck, I just need some luck.

Nothing's gone right.
My tools just put up a fight.
I haven't a dime in my pocket.
And no, I don't own a locket.
A trip to the mechanic
is now in sight.

I thought I was the mechanic here.
I could care less what I look like in the mirror.
One final tug to my wrench, which comes free;
A last-minute tweak to the carburetor and filled
with much glee,
My beloved Chevy is running clear, and I didn't even shed a tear.

The author's comments:
This is the person I've always wanted to be a part of. I've always admired my brother's knack for mechanics. So not only am I having a mechanical dilemma in the poem, I'm addressing my dilemma within.

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