Though he had to help his father in the garage,
the silence was difficult for him to manage.
He found the wrench and the correct socket
to loosen the head bolts, and did the same
removing and draining the oil pan underneath,
scuttling across the cement floor on the scooter
whose small wheels stuttered through dirt, oil and grease,
then washed his hands in the bathroom
off to one side, with its always-last-year’s-
nude calendar, and came out to inhale
the smoke of his father’s last unfiltered Camel,
who declared, Now on, it’s filters only.
Later he added, Writers have to know
all there is to know in this world.
(revision, 11 November 2012)
copyright 2012 by Floyce Alexander