Love

I had to remove a rusted shock:

squirted it with Liquid Wrench,

beat on it, pulled and pushed it.

I counter-forced two wrenches and still nothing.

After three hours—midnight—I went inside.

I let my body loose a little.

My mind said, ‘I’m going to move that bolt.’

Human will is a strange kind of strength.

I saw myself swiftly turning that steel.

I was exerting more and more pressure.

My arms began to jump,

shoulders to strain,

back to vibrate.

I couldn’t do more:

squinted my eyes tight,

braced my legs, 

even flexed my toes,

and inside thigh muscles.

Arms almost tore apart and,

Pop! The wrenches slipped off.

I fell back on the concrete.

The cracked, rusted shock rested on my chest.

The nut hadn’t moved. I had snapped

the shock’s piston.

I tried to cut it with a new hacksaw;

its teeth only marred the surface.

Hey, Pal, when those things

don’t loosen up, they make you find

how strong you are, your love.