My Theft

They took my tools

Which I understand

Poor is, poor does

There is no more

Pressure washer

No more compressor

And no more

Sob

Chainsaw

Down to shovel

Down to hammer

Down to screw motor

This is actually somewhat zen

Play Rolling Stones

Choir parts and drink

Diet soda, cry a bit

Raise a toast to work to be done

No time for poetry

We are men of the dirt

Formerly men or words

With something stolen