For the Old Man Who Sharpens Saws

When I show up with 33 knives he looks at me

like I’ve been released from somewhere

too soon…no one

in his narrow opinion

needs that many of anything.

But sharpen things

and talk

is what he does—two bits each

and a free lecture on religion or the United Nations.

I’ve heard it before, I know what’s coming.

So I begin to explain the knives…

I tell him I’ve got this beautiful but crazy woman

who likes a little variety when she’s over.

Something in his face resembles a nerve.

And next Sunday, at Easter, I know the congregation

will be praying for me and my girlfriend.

I beep the horn as I leave, rubbing it in.

He sees a red-necked Christ in every sunrise.

Someone else, just as sure, sees a throat being cut.