FIX-IT MAN

I call, tell him about my problem.
"There's this floor lamp that . . ."
He says he'll stop by, take a look.

My efforts at remedy have produced
the usual frustration and mild
cursing that accompany my attempts

to repair all things mechanical.
He arrives, analyzes the situation.
"Maybe I should toss it out,"

I say. "Some things aren't fixable."
He turns his face from the lamp,
gives me a wry grin,

makes a few dextrous twists.
"There," he says. "That should do it."
I plan to vote for him for president.