apostrophe     S

Insignia me, america
          and don’t you go and capitalize my a    and while you’re at it
pronounce me with a hard “a”
          think of me as your hometown girl          the one who is willing
to milk the cows            to take out the trash
                    squawk squawk the ronald on your family farm

she was mz
          fancy
          pants
                    a diamond under each armpit   a super red cape of
       electrical wires
       but the wiring was so fucked up
      you could never turn her on
       she was all malfunction
                        a sunday school lesson right down to her torso of bad
circuits—pig-tailing, yes, but no pony did come
round the
work bench
                    the wrong sized wrench in your box of nuts and bolts

But Synagogue Simon is here and she’s
totally “hands on”
the utters     hands on the towards

I put my minor tongue to words,     hum a work song and
by god, voila, anything works

so hold them parallel          don’t switch yet          check if electricity is present
like wires— don’t mix—
the ses up “thread one to the black outlet       and one to the red”