No Owner’s Manual Included

The gears are rusted,
they refuse to budge.

I gather up the leaves
that have fallen on the ground
and try to loosen the gears with them.

They don’t move,
and no wonder
who had ever heard
of loosening gears with leaves.

I look around for something to use
and find only a cat.

A very rude cat at that.

Picking up the cat
I toss it at the gears.

They release a groan and a wail
and slowly start to turn.

The cat runs howling from the room
but I know better.

He is not hurt, just insulted.

The vibration from the rusty gears
cause my head to throb.

This is not right.

If only this machine
came with an owner’s manual.

I pace the floor
trying to recall
what last was used
to free my brain
from neglect and decay.

Looking around I see
nothing but the discarded leaves
and a used cat.

Yet hiding beneath both
I find the key that I was looking for.

My words.

Gathering up the words
I toss them into the gears.

The more I add
the faster the gears turn
and I remember now
that the only thing
I really needed
were my own words.

I should probably apologize to the cat.

© Michele Markley 2010