Car Wash
At the car wash
a man well-past the mid-century mark
and a little thicker than he probably used to be
(though of course
there is nothing wrong
with being either of those things;
I mention them only
to set the scene)
says to the attendant, with a lewd chuckle
“What kinds of air freshener do you have?
Do you have the one called
Brazilian supermodel bait?”
I turn to watch him go,
thinking, well this had better be
quite a car.
But he walks up to a tiny red VW Beetle
(is it redundant to call a Beetle tiny?
Perhaps) and folds his big self inside.
I can’t resist:
“Good luck with that!”
a man well-past the mid-century mark
and a little thicker than he probably used to be
(though of course
there is nothing wrong
with being either of those things;
I mention them only
to set the scene)
says to the attendant, with a lewd chuckle
“What kinds of air freshener do you have?
Do you have the one called
Brazilian supermodel bait?”
I turn to watch him go,
thinking, well this had better be
quite a car.
But he walks up to a tiny red VW Beetle
(is it redundant to call a Beetle tiny?
Perhaps) and folds his big self inside.
I can’t resist:
“Good luck with that!”