Carpenter Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Carpenter

I wind him like clock
Possibly simple bomb
And he talks
Every word is alarm.


Eyes reddish, is drunk
With laughter and smile
Obvious his laugh-lines;
Crow's-feet come alive:
"Now I am sixty five! '
Retired and tired.

Romanian-Hungarian
Like many of his kind
Another victim of 'The Cold War'
Remnant of old borders
Born to be faded unrecorded.

Has had gains and losses
With many address-change
To from the motels and houses.

To past-now of Lakeshore
Can be called best witness.

Now installs cabinets;
He works as carpenter
An expert in job-change.

Works with those who pay cash
"Forget tax…"
Chooses time to work or
Stay home and relax.

But always has in hand
A bottle of beer, or a can:
"This is how want to die!
Best Life-End alcohol!
Drink and be passive!
Hell to want, and greed! "