it's spread out and flipped over on the floor like a washed-up jellyfish.
the jaws beneath laugh at me, hair twisting out of it, its final puffpuff to the world before dying.
does anyone know how to fix it?
i unscrew the baseplate.
phillips.
six screws.
open.
broken v-belt.
home depot.
sucks.
i'm on to unloading the dishes: the washer's broken again.
the dishes are speckled and freckled with white stains--
calcium iron magnesium salt HARD WATER.
and the soap dispenser--still jammed shut--refuses to open up and spill out the clean.
stubborn.
does anyone know how to fix it?
i grab a fork.
chip chip chip
pile of hardened soap, dispenser-shaped.
fresh start.
new soap.
longer cycle.
fingers crossed.
i'm sitting on the couch, shivering, nose dripping, cold: the heater's broken again.
i open the furnace door--he's in there grunting and humming and pretending he's working.
walk over to the thermostat.
65
walk over to the vent.
cold air.
expletive.
i call whipple heating airconditioning plumbing.
"it's a wonderful day here at whipple heating airconditioning plumbing! what can i do to make your day more wonderful?!"
my furnace is broken.
does anyone know how to fix it?
sometime between noon and two.
$69.95 dispatch.
warm again.
sucks.
stubborn.
cold.
i'm crying on the floor: my love is broken again.
it's spread out and flipped every which way, begging, taunting to be examined
to have the baseplate unscrewed and all the insides chipped out with a metal fork.
strap on my toolbelt,
phillips
fork
feelings
forgiveness,
and get to work.
swipes of dirt across my chin.
grease under my fingernails, all over my pants.
streams of tears across my cheek.
groans under my best wishes, all over my heart.
my love is broken.
does anyone know how to fix it?
i'll pay the dispatch.
i'll buy a new v-belt.
i'll rinse cycle and rinse cycle and rinse cycle
till things come out squeaky clean,
the way you like them.
honey, fix the washer,
honey, the vacuum won't start,
honey, fix the heater,
honey, fix my heart.
remember sitting on your bed summer before sophmore year terrified of the inevitable heartbreak we knew was sitting somewhere in our futures--almost as though we could feel him waiting, licking his lips, ready to devour our highschool hearts. sometimes i wish i could crawl back to that bed and stay for a little while longer. love you. always.
ReplyDeleteHi. I think we had some classes together. It's probably weird/awkward/strange that I'm reading your blog. BUT--this was awesome. Thanks you.
ReplyDeleteCarolyn.
ReplyDeleteI love you.
Can i come hang out with you?