Cuckoo Time

 Tony said 
it’s that
damn clock
all of us
all of our problems.
Tony had worked
seven seasons on Alaskan
fishing boats and
did handy work
in remote towns
in between, but
he saved his money
enough to attend college.
One afternoon
during exam week
his scrappy lean frame
alit from the study room
down the steep stairs
of our crammed
off-campus co-housing and
he threw his coffee cup
neatly knocking
the old cuckoo-clock
from the front room wall.
We cheered
as the cause
of all our problems
tumbled down and
bounced to the foyer floor
but the damn thing
still worked
of course.
The next morning after
getting quite drunk
that night,
Tony patched the hole
and hung back up
the clock
out of his consideration
and not wanting
to be evicted
by the house manager
not that
we would have stood for it,
but he passed
more than one
exam that day
and taught me
the same time.

Featured image credit:
P.S. Tony's name was in fact Nick, but Tony seems to fit the meter better for me.

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