When I first heard the term
“Renaissance man” I exhaled
A long muffled sigh,
For I then had a life destination
A rationale
A fraternity that I might join.
The son of a semi-illiterate gifted mechanic
I had failed in the world of trade talent
I had failed at age 14 to turn a screw to affix
A wire to a lamp.
Lefty-loosey...
Was so foreign
To a lefty in a
Righty-tighty world.
Yes, a dabble of mechanics
A bar of music
Or an inning on the sandlot
I could do passably,
Enough to not draw unwanted attention.
I could hold the flashlight,
Find the 5/8s box wrench.
No real definable talent, yet
No real gift, then
But not being the last picked for dodge ball
Was good enough.
I wonder sometimes if
Young DaVinci felt the same?
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