He’s my middlest
And he’s about to face this broken world
Like it’s one big mechanical problem
A gearing issue
A motor too small
To drive his dreams
So he’ll take the whole thing apart
I’m not kidding
The whole wide world
Will be in pieces
IN
MY
GARAGE
And then one day
After we butt heads again
Over the proper size
Of a serving of ice cream
He’ll storm out of the kitchen
And retreat to his favorite room
The garage that contains the world
His own primordial womb
Made of metal, plastic and wood
The raw materials
For which his hands were made
And while I sit at the table
And wonder what I should have done differently
And wishing I knew how to be
A better father than I am
On that day
I’ll hear a wild high-pitched noise
Followed by laughter
And his giant smile
Opening the door
And inviting us all to come and see
The world as he rebuilt it
Tooled differently
A larger motor
Geared perfectly
For dreaming bigger dreams
