I think we liked the end of Inception for very different reasons

The tedium of watching a slow rotation:
the grudging quarter turn of a bolt
while kneeling on the side of a highway,
sweating, while cicadas hum in the scrub
we tighten a stubborn screw in turns.

I'm indebted deeply to spinning
noiselessly in space
it's a function of the universe
that I have always found charming
and perhaps a little
ad hoc

but if
the universe is a perfect
conical construction
spiraling down from the vastness
of infinity to the minutia of elephant
and again from fingernail to ion
if the twist we fail to feel
is in the blueprints
a feat of engineering laid out in advance
then, well, I am surprised

instead:
knowing what I know of delicate work
it seems to me that perhaps the first thing,
whatever item on a great oak desk
signifies the whole
of, well, everything,
was probably set to a ponderous wobble
by the fat flank of a chubby cat in a work space
who believed himself stealthy

thereafter, we have damage control

I find a devious pleasure
in the idea of wild spiraling;
I wish, on dreary Wednesdays, to become
the reckless and gone spin of lost control;
to see the bolt strip, the ridges dull,
to watch a wrench spin free and away
from a tired hand

There is a joyous tension there,
relieved finally when a little top begins
to spin irregularly, to weaken, and fall.