by Lisa Beatman
No more Harvard men for me.
I'm looking for a man who's good with his hands,
Swiftian repartee only goes so far,
like good pate, it remains in the parlor.
I'm ready for a man who's good with his hands,
whispered molecular theories do not jiggle my electrons,
and astrophysics over dinner does not
blast me off into space.
No, I'm looking for a man who's good with his hands,
Aristotelian logic lacks spittle,
I'm looking for a man who's not afraid
to lubricate a little, or a lot, and who knows
just how much, and how deep to go.
Yes, I'm ready for a man who's good with his hands,
a man who reads with the tips of his fingers,
toolbag slung low on his hips, who knows
his way around complicated circuitry,
and unflagging, can turn anything on.
I'm looking for a fix-it man,
fresh-smelling of sweat, not library dust,
a man with a blueprint, a man you can trust
with your plugs and your plumbing,
your heart and your head,
and as Grandma once said,
he can park his work boots,
anytime, under my bed.
Lisa Beatman's work has appeared in Lonely Planet, Lilith Magazine, and the Hawaii Pacific Review, among other publications. Her book Ladies' Night at the Blue Hill Spa was published by Bear House Publishing.