Breaker Bar
Every now and then I get
the urge to lift 
the simple slender breaker
bar in my hands,
Snap a socket on the square
pivot fitting
and go hunting for a big fat
frozen bolt, 
one that hasn’t budged in
ages, rust bound 
threads that yearn to give
held fast by a split 
spiral washer, a tense
marriage of wedge 
to pent up tension, for no
reason other
than to feel the sheer
unbridled joy 
that comes from applying
Archimedes 
Law of the Lever, set to
deliver 
a stunning verdict
proclaimed with a sharp 
dry crack that travels
through my hands and
arms and lights up some forgotten
arms and lights up some forgotten
constellation in a dark
and dusty 
corner of my brain,
closing a circuit 
that began with the simple
slender 
breaker bar bequeathed but
rarely wielded, 
a conjure stick to summon
you back to 
throw your weight around,
tip the scales in my
favor, balanced absurdly here on
the business end.  
 
I read this on 3quarks and would like to say that this is one excellent poem. I shared it with a friend of mine who expressed great pleasure that someone had captured this experience on paper, and he suggested that a similar poem might be devoted to the comparable, yet entirely distinct, pleasure of using an easy-out.
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