Ted Jean
Framing
aloft in the roof structure, Robert props with
job-built jacks a 2x8 fir perlin fully twenty feet
across the span between the gable cripple walls
to support the rafters, in lieu of trusses, so that
forty years from now prospective buyers will not
see a sadly sagging roof line—the presumable
intent of the cookie-cutter suburban architect
why is our boy simply standing there, like
a dumbass, 28 oz hammer hanging at his calf
while the Mexican foreman yells at him to get
his ass in gear? (truth be told, he is only on the job
because he understands the math of complex roof
framing, a token college-educated carpenter, as he
is otherwise too slow, though not unliked among
his crew of industrious undocumented amigos)
the answer, perhaps: his little sister Annette has
died, just this morning, of pancreatic cancer, and he
is considering, you know, the customary question