Dormer

I’m going to paint

that son of a bitch.

I’m going to climb

up there and paint it.

 

I’m not a young man

any more,

but I’m not old

and I can’t get my

motorcycle out of the

garage because

the scaffold

is in the way

and I won’t move

the scaffold

until I paint

the dormer.

 

I’m going to paint

that son of a bitch.

 

I’m going to climb

up there and remember

I climbed Whitney and

Baden-Powell and

Mount San Antonio.

 

I don’t need to pretend.

I climbed them all.

 

I’m going to climb up

there and I’m going to

paint that son of a bitch.

 

I’m going to paint

to make things better

and brighter and

secure against

the sun and rain.

 

I’m going to climb

up there and I’m going

to do my job.

Nobody has to pay me.

I do it for fun.

I do it for love.

I do it for all the

jobs I’ve ever done

and all the men

who did the jobs

before me,

the men who built the

dormer and the house

it sits upon.

 

I’m going to paint the dormer.

God willing.

Soon as I get back up there

I’m going to paint

that son of a bitch.

 

No offense.

 

ƒ