Classic Craftsman Drill

He picks up the cordless then leaves
my vintage chrome on the shelf.
Even when I shine up real nice,
stack my drill bits just right,
he still takes that gaudy ol’ plastic thing
along for odd jobs. All night she brags
about the freedom he feels each time
he wraps his fingers around her handle.
My cord may keep me tethered,
but I know her battery conks out
before she can finish the job.
Then he comes back around–
looking for me to give him that extra oomph
to power six-inch nails through concrete.
He knows I’ll squeeze out
all the torque he needs.