lasted a day before the cat lopped it with a claw. He takes against flowers and butterflies, I can’t figure the coded instinct. I think the rain is getting to him. It’s getting to me too. I’ve been out trying to tape up the car to stop rivulets reaching the engine bay, the old glass sealants were discarded in an engineering quest. Snapped spark plug. Teams of mechanics and a gulping bill but it rolls again. Was almost the last mile. I haven’t been lucky with mechanix lately. I dream of riding ponies along the headland or bobbing over clear waters in a skiff, never opening another tool box. Shunning worked metals. But I can’t swerve my caretaker role. I need more work, need to tap the keys but the rain keeps luring, keeps me window gazing. Everyone waits for their weather to lift.