MacGyver

It starts with a call
A call from his mother
Sophia says, «Come quick, MacGyver’s been hurt
He was just on his way home from saving the world again
He got jumped by some kids
He went down now he’s dying»
So I threw on my coat and ran out the door
Sped through the night to the old hospital
Where the doctors said to wait so I camped in the ward
Watching the clock as it hemorrhages time so slow
And I’ve lingered here so long
The air in here so cold
The shallow breath so quiet
The shibboleth of MacGyver laid bare
Flat on a table
Blackened by bruises he couldn’t explain
And there was nothing he could build to save himself
Out of biros and blue-tack
They opened up his cavities in the operating theatre
But the doctors couldn’t find a heart
His lymph glands running motor oil
His calloused fingers lie inert
Their intricate ability punctured
By the god-shaped hole in adolescent consciousness
He couldn’t build a bomb to mend the splinters of his broken heart
His homemade radar couldn’t find a way to make his weapons art
MacGyver bleeds out all of his rationalism
Isaac Newton, your lever is not long enough
The Scottish enlightenment a sinking ship
So I left the hospital with the bleep of life support machines a memory