Charles

He’s wearing brown coveralls with detached hood 

The hood is beige. It protects him from the cold of the surrounding snow

Tarps vaguely protect the piles of pressboard that litter his yard 

They are covered in the patchy, wet snow

Next to the piles is his house

A one-story blue house that he saved for years to buy

And a cinder-block he hasn't bothered to move

Slowly melting a hole in the snow with the sun’s energy

In his hands, he holds two planes

Model planes, the type built out of balsa wood

Carefully carved and painted to look like the real thing

They are both red and white, but very different shapes

He loves the planes

They are his pride and joy

He has made them himself, modeled on real planes

Planes from books at the library, and ones he’s watched fly over his house

During the day he works as a carpenter

Just enough to pay mortgage, buy food, 

and buy wood and paint for his planes

The rest of the time, he builds his planes

He’ll take months over a plane making sure every little detail is accurate

All his library books on planes are months overdue

All day long, as he’s sanding wood, and carving legs for tables

He is thinking about his planes

When he has a model plane in his hand, he forgets everything else

Sometimes he forgets to sleep, and builds right on through to dawn

He will not eat for days on end when he’s painting a plane

He didn’t notice a raging blizzard outside his window. He only had eyes for his plane.

His house is a wreck

The bathroom is mildewed, and the paint is peeling

Every sink is leaking, and the the floor is covered in grit

His yard is full of scrap lumber and cinder blocks

Everyone feels sorry for him

It’s so sad, they think, he never was quite all there

It’s a shame he can’t manage to keep up with his yard work

If only he was capable enough to get a better job

No one ever comes by to help him

To fix his plumbing or mow his lawn

He’s not their problem, not their flesh and blood

At thirty nine, a man should be able to take care of himself

He has everything he’s ever wanted

He has his own house, where no one can bother him

He has his planes, shelves and shelves of them, all perfect

Though no one knows it, Charles is happy.