Have you seen the new Fits?

at Honda dealership
tag-along w/a friend waiting
for maintenance

dressed quickly, I
in unkempt long hair
notebook underarm
pencils protruding from hoodie
pocket left hand

a standing oddity among haircuts

with the waiting area at capacity
we bench outside
no handhelds, video games, or computers
my only entertainment

to move time’s presage
spine propped on the corporate wall
my scribbling has been observed
however the awkward body language
is palpable

note-taking in such obvious manner
seems to have unnerved at least
one suit

poured amply into pants
belt-pudge tucked
under shirt armpit fat & slip-on
leather flats
non-athlete like myself

takes his cigarette break
eight comfortable feet away
eyeballs hidden beneath dark sunshades

not a particularly hot or
uninviting day
baby blue prairie sky cluttered
with slow-moving cloudforms
paunchy whalewhite underbellies
lazily inch their way overhead

I feel very stared-at

a rhythmic shop broom sweeps
concrete garage floor

bald men with busy atmosphere
scoff underbreath as they pass

the smell of chemical detergents
unnoticed by the noseblind

automobile alchemists unwind
vehicular clockwork replacing dead metal
with functioning dust

a mandala of machines in motion
beneath capitalist dogma

One is reminded of money-eyed metaphors
of goblins toiling in dwarf mines
to serve a draconic god of concrete
coins exchange hands in capillaries
pumping forge fire through
mountain veins

energy transformed to carbon monoxide

moved, we inside, now that seats are
slouch-fit pleather chairs

gum on the floor

fifty inch flat screen set to sports channel
hockey game
commentated by tv personality suits
dramatically describing everything

the service centre interior decor
smacks of clinical disembodiment
diagonal off-white floor tile squares
faux wood grain cabinetry
black countertops speckled to
resemble asphalt
an unused public coffee machine
water cooler, paper towel/ sink
self-serve station fully stocked
vending machine
cultivated chin beards and deals
on new used tires

“Deals so good, they’re like magic.”
one ad claims
“pick a car, any car.”

crayons in plastic bowl side-table
next to magazines

managers down hallways fidget
busily exchanging words with
black-shirt customer service front
of house
wall clock looks like a brake disc

it’s all a dream
inhabited by manicured specters
obsessed with appearance, for
appearance’s sake

the insoluble filth of greed
remains visible
despite this unclever disguise

dollars for services
inarticulately recounted by
thick fingered whore, re-checked
by senior agent red-shirt disapproval
permanently mutated face wrinkles

two hours for a new a/c line
$534.40 one new part
“car sounds more better.”

we leave, I -feeling the flatfoots relief
glowing naked ears

stopped at Mc Dick’s drive-thru
on the way back through town
two upsized meals ordered, paid for
with coupon
one came back Medium

fucking vampires.

© Emerys Watchel, 2016 All rights reserved.


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