I Married An Auto Mechanic

Supposing I went up there,
To his room,
Bendentha’s living.
There’s a bar, which meets the bank.
There’s three women mixing in hem-lengths,
Looking for a jettison who’ll speak.

Betty called Saturday. She was looking
For “Jake”,
Me to her: “He’s far.”

What should I tell them
These grandparents, aunts who
Should I share about the garage?
Parts by the hood:
Lost wax casting, turnbine compressors,
Yellow ignition coils, green tie rods,
And center links.

“Knarled hands are what holds families,” –your Dad, Opening Day.

Fire me. I’m just the laundry.
I’m a basket for follow-through.
I speak, but you’re pointing at her divan.

Her petal cheeks are the one you own.
Kiss my highbrows, make my ribs pink.
They’re so blue-
They should see the difference.

Tracy Hauser

Sent from my iPhone


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s