My friend the carpenter (no, not that one)
Told me about a trick some workmen use.
They leave some tools around if they’re not done—
Nothing that they can’t afford to lose—
As if they’ve gone for coffee or a snack,
Or an emergency—a roof with leaks.
They want to keep us thinking, “They’ll be back,”
Despite the fact that days stretch into weeks.
But even if they do this to deceive,
They do it. They need us to think that they’re
Decent, the kind of men who wouldn’t leave.
That Skilsaw on the ground shows wear and tear,
A lot like faith. We need it. So do they.
A promise to believe in anyway.