John mangled his arm in the engine two years ago and now he's back.

His arm is bent.

The engine was hot.

His arm touched the engine and his skin stuck to it.
It puddled up, shook, and yelled.

The engine pulled him closer but didn't decide.

Whether to take his arm,
or to take him whole,
didn't know.

So John pulled back, fell to the mud.  
Puddled up, shook, and yelled.

**Now it's September
and John's back
and he's on the tractor
and the leaves are red
and he's at the edge of the field near the creek
and the sky is blue
and he's laughing
and the water is brown
and the engine is screaming
and the mud is black
and he's driving the tractor into the mud
and the tractor isn't moving
and there's a rock on the gas pedal
and he's opened the hood
and he's got a stick in his hand
and he's jamming branches into the engine
and he's pouring oil on the branches
and the engine is screaming
and the leaves are red
and he's lighting the oil
and tractor is burning
and the sky is blue
and the engine is screaming
and it's September
and John's arm is still bent
and John is laughing,
his hands are swelling,
his hands, the ******,
and the tractor is dead,
it's still yelling, but dead,
and John is laughing.