Stroke of Genius
by David E. Booker
O’ gods of justice and of light
Pause to consider this poor man’s plight.
He stands erect, with chain saw there
In place left best for underwear.
He yanks the cord with all his might
Hoping to overcome his limpid plight.
The motor chuffs; the man’s abrupt
Wondering loudly why nature interrupts.
He tugs and tugs and tugs once more
Imploring the gods: implore, implore.
Sweat from his face is running down
And he wants to toss saw to the ground.
Yet, one final time he assails his plight,
Stroking and stroking with all his might.
The engine coughs and sputters to life
Then its biting causes him new strife.
Putting something sharp where he ought not to.
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