Essentials

1.

Simon appears in my headlights
he is standing in the rain on the side of the road with his thumb out
he shivers uncontrollably in the passenger seat the whole way to the bar
where I drop him off for his final bender

halfway through his thirtieth year
he hasn’t seen his crew in weeks     he can’t speak to his father
his girlfriend won’t let him in     his truck has been repossessed
his driver’s license revoked     his tools in hock
in three days the blood will seep into his guts until nothing is left

melons and sweet corn at harvest time     a nail drops into the back of my shirt
I look up and no one is there

2.

the last time Simon and I work together
I help him move some lumber for a house he is framing by himself

he has been reduced to his essentials:   a hammer     a saw     a tape measure
a box of spikes     a pile of wood     and a case of budweiser

I watch him nail the top plate of a short stem wall bolted to the foundation
his swing is huge and effortless
the hammer falls squarely on the head of a nail he has only just released
sending it deep into the wood
he sets four or five nails in succession
then goes back down the line and buries them each in one stroke

this is how I will remember the man

not in contrast to his terrible losses     or to the tragedy of his swift and early decline
but whenever my task is at its most absurd or impossible
or when the effort seems to matter the least

I will think of Simon alone on a house he cannot live to finish
driving nails better than anyone I’ve ever seen