Yesterday I danced—
did a tango with a Kango in our yard
breaking concrete steps apart
that had been well poured
some 80 years before at this spot
by someone I wish had not been
so competently thorough

Holding Kango firmly in my hands
I squeeze her switch to make her rhythm start
to drive her lone leg into aggregate
to tease its smooth stones apart
as she rattles her body and mine,
sexy jackhammer that she is
who has broken, not hearts,
but the works of Who(?) or What(?)
into bits many times before
with her thumping choreography
bits to be hauled more easily away,
not monolith then
no more the thing it once had been

Dancing with my Kango, soul-mates we are.
But we are never intimate, I hold her safely away
in open embrace respecting the beauty
of her ruthless brutality, her determined
destructive purpose, the flip side of creation

by Jim Culleny

“Kango” is the brand name of a jackhammer


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