POEM: SATURDAY AT THE CAR WASH

six Spanish guys
in blue caps and t-shirts
attack the car
                            with rags
in haste
such alacrity that the
wet droplets can't
dry in the wind
or slide
                arcing downward in
gravity's pull

Talking no talking
looking on with suspicion
murmured Spanish
a distant hum that
stops
            when I approach
voices hushed in
ragged fragments
                                        obscene and
angry
eyes spearing the fat white guy
who barks orders
like he's reprimanding a
caged dog.

-- Hank Kalet

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Comments

[daniel morris]

Just wanted to say I've read and re-read this poem with much delight in recent days. How fitting a project for this venue: enlivening the legacy of Williams for all New Jersey poetry lovers to enjoy. Keep writing!