(Headline in Huffington Post, 11/17/11)
Have you ever whacked a solid-steel plow blade with an ax? Even with gloves, it stings. Wrecks the ax. Doesn’t even scratch the plow. What was I thinking?
I started with a little bitty rubber hammer. Kindergarten. Gingerbread house. Total destruction.
I was lonely as a child. The others were wary. I went through a ball-peen stage before settling on a claw.
I skipped college and got work at Johnson’s Concrete Removal. Pneumatic hammers and drills. I thought about becoming a dentist but gave it up.
I switched to axes one night in August. I was down on the south side of town driving nails into telephone poles when an old lady came out of her house and said, “I axed you befo’ not to do dat.”
Have you ever been in love? What do you chop up then? Discarded mattresses and sofas on the sidewalk? I wanted to buy my baby the moon with a ribbon tied around it. I guess I went a little crazy.