Everything looks like a nail

there are one hundred twenty seven nails in sixteen slats
that make up the dock
(which was painted a nice red
but now it is worn greying wood
and faded mauve-pink)
For 20 years I've wondered
where the missing nail was.

You didn't say anything about it
before we walked away
and then again
both times you died.

I was looking for something
down on my work bench
the other day when I found your hammer
and I remembered the truth about
hammers.

Then I remembered that twinkle
in your eye when you laughed at me.