Jimmy hung the tool bag under the headlight.
He didn’t know why. It’s just what you did. It had conches but no fringe.
He could probably fight a 12 ounce can into if you wanted.
And a small, vending machine sized bag of M&Ms.
The guys didn’t notice the tool bag under the headlight.
A tool was just what you did. They didn’t know why either.
Tools don’t really fit into the bag–except maybe those fold-up, breakdown ones.
The bag was a place to forget to use, an unfilled empty.
But Jimmy would think of something.
He would fill the empty and use the space.
With something good, something right.
And he’d share. Just like his mother taught him.