The sign on the door

of Local 406 read

Carpenters needed. $9/hour.

Times being what they were,

I went. By the time I got there

Rick'd already set up

his horse in the skeleton

of the living room. Leave it

to Rick to get in early

and stake out the prime real estate.

The blade of his saw flashes

as he rips the plywood;

over the screaming he grins,

shakes his head, mouths

"Early bird gets the worm, Stan"

and right then I'd like to pop him,

but I don't. Instead, I cinch up

my tool belt and move into the foyer.

Through the wall, I see Paulie

chatting up the boss in the kitchen.

I get to work. It goes like this:

take a piece of sheetrock-

cut away what doesn't belong.

I start hanging, and before long,

Paulie's disappeared from sight.

His laugh still comes

through. Grating, like always.

I drive a nail, feel the echo

of the hammer-blow

down to my toes

as the walls go up

around us.

Help Wanted

Michael Kushner