On The Dismantling Of An Engine (Spring '97)

"You don't know what you're doing," I
say, as my friend with the wrench
attacks what lies under the hood of
his car.

"You'll never get that back together
again," I say, when an oily fraction
emerges.

He says it's just a puzzle, if it goes
together once, you can always get it back
together again.

I wish machines were like rocks, and
that nothing had to be fixed.

I want to know how things work.
No one ever bothered to teach me. I
fear that's because they knew
I'd never learn.