Tech Help Poem by Chase Twichell

My bonsai teacher says to quit doing it like a girl.
I'm pruning the root-ball of a Podocarpus,
or Buddhist pine, trained semicascade.

The first time Dad fell,
the femur broke in eleven places
due to his artificial knee (titanium and steel).
A rod screwed to the bones in thirteen places
didn't work, and the graft stayed weak.
For two years he fought his wheelchair
into near submission. The grand finale
was him riding it down two flights of stairs
without tipping over or falling out.
The nurses loved him.

The last time I called tech help
I got George in Salt Lake, at work
at six in the morning their time.
He was very helpful.
I offered to write a note for his file,
but he said, It's OK, Chase.
Your compliment is enough.