the gold wrench

your plumber in his Mercedes benz
pulls up
with his coffee, tanned
and heavy from
a long vacation
in the Caymans.
he has a gold wrench in
the deep back pocket
of his pristine
overalls.
it's just a leaky faucet
you tell him.
I could probably fix
it, but I know nothing
about plumbing.
this makes him laugh
as he heads
to the sink to twist
a valve closed.
twenty minutes later
you push in a wheel barrow
full of money
to which he says,
thanks, and wheels
it out to his car.