Sunday, August 12, 2007
Small Song for a Hand Truck
Always manned by a fool who cuts corners
too sharply. The corner of what's carried
cuts into door jambs and the wall garners
large gashes when the object is hurried.
Held tightly by a mover - hands too rough
to notice the smoothness of the handle
they jerk in effort to steer - it proves tough,
dependable. Used, scuffed, but never dull.
When the weight is balanced over its wheels
it's tempting to move things quickly and far
too easy to neglect whatever feels
light. Mind the ledge of a first class lever.
Upright, sure. Exceeding its weight limit
leads to an ultra steel wreck. Fool in it.