Sticks.
Sticks where I want it
And sticks where I don’t want it
Sticks to my fingers
Resists unsticking
Jumps from finger to finger
“Annoying.” I say
“Stop complaining. “She says
It refuses to leave
I shake it
I pull
I grab
Sticks
Like a friend
Who doesn’t stop talking
Or a fly around a lamp shade
Guaranteed to hold and stay
It’s what duck tape is for
Sticks
Like a mosquito that buzzes your ear
A guest who overstays their welcome

It’s me
I don’t have time to cut the tape
I tear
It sticks as I try to lay it down
I tear off a mistake
It sticks
And I can’t shake it off
It’s time for me to learn
That duck tape has consequences
Duct installers know
I don’t tape ducts
I owe duck tape an apology
“I’m sorry duct tape
For not taking the time
To calmly respect
The stickiness you possess
It’s your job
I promise to be more careful
I know how sensitive you are
All you want is to hold stuff together
Lets’ be friends
You keep up the good work
I’ll try to use you with nimbler fingers
You are there for me when I need you
The least I can do is learn how to use you
So you don’t stick to me.
I hate that

Tom Stock

Tom Stock has been involved in the Long Island environmental and outdoor education community for decades.

He has published two books; THE NISSEQUOGUE RIVER: A JOURNEY and HIDDEN AGENDA; A POETRY JOURNEY.He has also published many essays and poems in such journals as the Long Island Forum and The Long Islander.

Latest posts by Tom Stock (see all)