Tracy Press

Everyone is a mentor sometimes, especially the old folks.

Though at the time it may not occur to us to call it "mentoring," there’s likely to be a good deal of that sort of thing going on, wanted or unwanted, whenever a young person works for someone older. Richard Hoffman of Massachusetts does a good job of portraying one of those teaching moments in this poem.

Summer job

"The trouble with intellectuals," Manny, my boss,

once told me, "is that they don’t know nothing

till they can explain it to themselves. A guy like that,"

he said, "he gets to middle age — and by the way,

he gets there late; he’s trying to be a boy until
he’s forty, forty-five, and then you give him five

more years until that craziness peters out, and now

he’s almost fifty — a guy like that at last explains

to himself that life is made of time, that time
is what it’s all about. Aha! he says. And then

he either blows his brains out, gets religion,

or settles down to some major-league depression.

Make yourself useful. Hand me that three-eights

torque wrench—no, you moron, the other one."

• Poem copyright © 2006 by Richard Hoffman, and reprinted from, "Gold Star Road."

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