Ramshackle Inn

A Poem by Robert Broder

Photo by Will Suddreth

Included in Wayfarer Magazine Issue 42»

Tony Periwinkle is a large man 
who meticulously designs and builds miniatures. 
He loves the smell of 
sawdust,
the rhythm of his 
jigsaw, 
and the sound of 
sandpaper 
smoothing out the tiniest of objects.
At the moment, he is tinkering on Ramshackle Inn.  
The lobby looks grand, 
even though it is small, 
Tony cracks ceramic tiles 
to design a mosaic for the foyer, 
carefully placing each chipped piece into place.
The banister that winds up to the second and third floor 
are twisted twigs he finds while hiking in the woods 
with Low-Rider, his trusty Basset Hound.
When needed 
he takes his weathered flannel shirts 
and methodically snips and sews 
the smallest of items for each room. 
Curtains, 
linens, 
and rugs 
all have a touch of plaid.

Clay is molded into toilets, 
sinks 
and clawfoot tubs, 
then bisque-fired until they are bright white. 
Using rubber-tipped tongs, 
Tony sets them into each bathroom.
He manipulates 
empty soup cans with needle-nose pliers 
to cut and bend the aluminum 
to make room keys, silverware, and chandeliers.
He grabs his magnifying glass and inspects Ramshackle Inn.
“Almost finished,” he says to himself.

After a long day, Tony and Low-Rider 
take a walk along the ridge and look out at the town together.
Tomorrow, Tony will gently melt clear wine bottles and craft a “No Vacancy” sign.