The lug nut

I was walking with my head down,
my hands in my pockets,
whistling a tune,
when I came across the lug nut.

There it lay staring back at me,
willing me to pick it up,
round and shiny.
What is your story,  I wondered.

Maybe you were bought brand new,
but sadly on the way home
dropped and lost
before you could ever be used.

Or maybe you made it on to a wheel
but were loose and shaky
until you fell off
for you were not installed securely.

Or maybe a naughty kid with a wrench
deliberately pried you off
and tossed you
to what purpose I cannot fathom.

It was then you made me think how
maybe you were telling me
you were like me
a small piece in a big machine.

Or could it be I was the big machine
with a piece missing, small
but important
for without it I could not be whole.

Or maybe I was in the driver’s seat
headed off the road,
you warning me
to pay attention to the small details.

I was walking with my head down,
my hands in my pockets,
whistling a tune,
when I came across the lug nut.

But it put so many  thoughts in my head,
so hands back in my pockets,
whistling a tune,
I now walk with my head straight up.

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About fictionfuture

An experiment in minimalist fiction View all posts by fictionfuture

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