My father cuts down random trees
in the woods around his trailer.

He says he’s making room
so some can get bigger.

He spent his life counting
auto parts and dollars

in the Controller’s office
at the Ford axle plant.

He holds a chainsaw in his hands.
My father took a demotion

so he would not have a heart attack
like the two guys who had the job

before him, Yeah, there really was
this guy called the Controller.

Is. Is this guy. My father’s got
a pretty good pension. Buys

himself a trailer in the woods
and a chainsaw. The woods,

they look okay to me, I tell him.
But what do I know. He’s got it

oiled and gassed, wrapped up
like a favorite gun. My father,

he’s standing there, intent
and serious, wondering

where to begin.

:: Jim Daniels, Night with Drive-By Shooting Stars

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