He told me the other day
that he couldn't do it
that he was saving me
from the inevitable pain
of his instability
I bore it as well as I could
teeth digging into my lip
I've gained weight
lost time
and there are projects due
always due
I have a new cut on my arm
a new hole in the other
gifts from the metal shop
the mig welder
and there are tiny nicks
on my thumb
my fingers
from the sheets of galvanized steel
that now reside in the back
of my dusty blue hatchback
with the fritzy electronics
I feel I am spiraling
down or out
or some other indistinct direction
I am only still conscious
through sheer will
and caffeine
sleep has not come easy
the last few days
the last few weeks
my fingers are black
with charcoal dust
my toes black
like the feet of wandering vagrants
in my battered sandals
all still smelling of molten metal
and still
still
I am so very
content
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