make us happy again

three months
go by.
and they call. we're not
happy, they say,

the paper has frayed at the corner
where we bump

into it daily.
we're not small people

and it's hard to carry a plate
of chicken
upstairs

while turning
the corner, balancing
drinks
and desserts on a large

plastic tray.
can you come back and fix
the rips.

paste down the tears,
make it new again?

you should have warned us
that we can't
bump into it everyday,
and it's
up to you

to make it right. make
us happy again
with your tools, your paste,
your knife.