You use your whole arm
Keep your elbows clear.
See?
My father made the cut.
His hand held the saw.
His arm swung clean and clear.
I held the plank and itched for a turn.

I showed them how.
The teachers’ lament, that.
You can hear the ‘but’ coming a mile away.

Here comes the chorus.
I am sure you know the words
too well.
Here it comes, sing along if you want now:



You sure you want to do that?
(Soon as I heard you ask, I did)

Now, if I was doing that…
(But you’re not)

If you ask me….
(Did I?)

I never seen it done that way.
(Well, step back and maybe you’ll learn something new.)

I guess you could do it that way.
(I guess I can.)

Conventional wisdom would have…
(Save it for the conventional fella why don’t you.)

Nine out of ten experts recommend…
(What did number 10 have to say?)

The map, the directions, the manual, the guy at the friggin’ store
(Yeah, I am sure they all did.)

Funny thing about it is that what I’ve learned to do, I’ve learned in the doing
In the choosing
In the trying
In the over and over
In the straight-up fuck-ups
In the clenched fist frustration
In the sheer and brilliant joy
See, I did it myself.


Yet so quick I turn,
like all the rest,
you’d think I’d know by now,
but I still catch myself, hear myself saying,
“Here, let me show you how.”