A mechanical mind, I do not have.
I have less even than my non-mechanical dad.
I give you an example from many road trips,
but you won’t find any mechanical tips.
Almost always at motel room desks, as I sit
my chair descends as if taking me into a pit.
I struggle to rise from the bowels and kneel
on knees mightily painful to the feel.
I pull and push the lever to a fro,
and through the window, I want the chair to throw.
And then as if miraculous, often, the chair will rise
much to my pleasure and always my surprise.
The test is whether the chair will hold
or whether I’ll descend, once again, to the devil’s fold.
In trepidation, I sit and the chair stays up;
my wife and I celebrate with a cheerful cup.
If I were mechanical, I would return to the mat
and examine the thing with the curiosity of a cat.
But being the non-mechanical man that I am
I sit at the desk and compose this very po-em.