Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2021
Rarely, if ever,
the toolbox in the closet
comes out for some
easy fix.
Today it was my lawn chair.
But I can’t use a wrench
to fix the way you look at me,
as you try to sip
the entire Colorado river
through a plastic straw.
Part of me wants to let you
have your fun,
to believe that across
the table from me
you might find
your own wrench.
But stainless steel
has no effect on the cortex,
no effect on the river,
no effect on a sun
that has overstayed its
welcome.
Drink me
until the wrench
must come out,
but I have a duty
to warn you
that I am not
a lawn chair.
Andrew Philip
Written by
Andrew Philip  27/M/Denver, CO
(27/M/Denver, CO)   
  350
     ryn, Writing of the Unknown and Brett
Please log in to view and add comments on poems