I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes. I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over. I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong. And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions. I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely. It's what we do.
The machinations of love! We had a turn-of-the-century gear hob at my machinist school. My instructor and guru-to-all-things posted something you might appreciate:
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Incredible gears, by the way, until they get clogged with grit!
the heart goes wild
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shape twisted, contorted
its very being unrecognizable
time (and a handle) move the
hands of life's clock
gears fold back together
hearts settle
mended with a sigh
fascinating and a wonderful metaphor .....
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Leave it to Red Toes to recognize the obvious metaphor. I was like Johnny Oblivious figuring out the gear ratios that would bring the whole shape back together in so many turns and I completely missed the point of the whole issue. I've always been better with gears than with hearts.
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ReplyDeleteSomeone pass the 120 wt lube will ya!
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ReplyDeleteFur Queue, Uiyui, spammers are not welcome here. May your bowels become liquid, and your sphincter burn painfully.
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