A practical list of the thing I have not, will not, or cannot fix

the chisel gap wedged between my front teeth my left windshield wiper, my screen protector, my screen, the four tiles beneath my sink: heinrich, stooley, waldorf, and moe, the second and third light bulbs, my thrift store painting, my bungee cord, my longsword’s crossguard, my dice bag, my website, my tax relief, my scalp and the scalp after, my didgeridoo, my mayan souvenir, my providence, my blender, my tomahawk head, the USB port, my deep noon, my bird voice, my lanyard noose, the first belt loop, my threaded spool, my dry vocal cords, my nose, my right loath sclera, my locking thumb, my hoax, my courageous double, my afterthought, my mouse colonies, my mice, the lamp whose shatter hangs cordial like half-lit guillotine, my dues, my don’ts, my do not disturbs, my disturbances, my ice-maker, my speaking terms, my formal terms of surrender, my colon, my first stain, my singularity, my sortie, that sudden stoppage of null, my old ways, my weight, my front right burner, my bad day, my time sink, my grant proposal, dinner (C) James Cole, 2021