No narrative
makes a difference
when you are repairing an engine
and reach the One Nut
that will not budge.  No wrench,
no socket, no logic or physical law
makes sense then —

here is the need
for the Sublime in your life 
condensed to sweat and
bloody knuckles.

What you need to happen
is obvious, no known tool
will make it happen,  
and all you can do is sit
and supplicate
for holy intervention. 

Is it funny?
Is it tragic? Does it require
beer and momentary
abandonment of your good sense
to face it?  Nothing’s

off limits
now
that what is supposed to happen
doesn’t.  Thank
something for the chance

and sit back down in front of the engine
until some wizardry arrives. 

An artist was asked,

if your next work
was guaranteed
to save the world
but would also mean
that you could produce
no more,
would you stop?

The reply:

Let it go
to hell.  
They’ll need me
more
in the aftermath.