From the poetry collection published in 2015, Spring Cleaning.
Stopped at the traffic light
beside a tan stucco building
Steel front door painted mostly blue and chipped
Potholed asphalt parking lot right up to the building
A seam line of sprouting dandelions holding the two together.
Auto Repair Garage, the sign says.
I admire the simplicity of it.
Yes, I see that.
It’s dark inside the door but
I get a glimpse of
an orange counter along the side wall
Windows I can’t see silhouette a guy
Needs his car fixed, he does.
Well, you know what it’s like in there,
Smell the oil rubber grease hot metal
Hear the compressor the squeal of the lift the radio
The phone ringing no one answering it
The phone ringing again no one hearing it
over the bzzt bzzt bzzt
of the pneumatic wrench.
The traffic light changes. I move on and
take that garage with me.