measure twice cut once the sound of the tape measure retracting extracting retracting again before the soft whorls of wood fall to metal teeth as the saw savages the grain

he measures the coffee in four even scoops a shake of cinnamon a dash of salt as the water fills the glass carafe in the sink beside him a shaking hand sends ground beans flying

measure twice cut once the voice says calmly in his head as he wipes up the coffee like lice on the sponge with a disgusted face as the water begins to flow over the sides

in his mind the glass shatters off of the wall sending a spray of shards to wash across the tiled floor the plastic coffee maker quickly following with a sickening crack

measure twice cut once he lets out the breath burning in his lungs carefully pours out the excess rinses out the sponge fills the tank presses the button walks away

he is the wood with pencilled score marks across his back drawn by wire hangers the uncertainty of the worldly sawblade measured twice cut indefinitely