this is what men do, he said

i remember my

father

changing a tire on the side

of the road.

cursing

a random nail

as the snow fell.

i stood close

by

as he turned the wrench

removing

the hubcaps,

the lug nuts,

and raising the car

off the ground

with the jack,

while my mother

and sister

stayed warm inside.

this is what men do,

he said to me.

cigarette in his mouth.

his greased knuckles

bleeding

somehow,

his knees wet from

the snow.

we fix things, he said.

they stay

warm in the car 

doing nothing, while

we fix things

and get back on the road.