When I come in, my mechanic is eating
lunch. He doesn't look over the top
of his newspaper.
I glance around, hoping that Miss July
with her sassy fife will distract me,
but his calendars
feature only a vernal wrench, saucy
timing belt, naked carburetor:
things that might make a robot humid.
Sitting across from his headlines, I feel
like the mechanic's wife: virtues ignored,
faults magnified, taken for granted . . .
It's all I can do to not clutch
the lapels of my robe and run into
the bathroom weeping.
Finally he listens. Intently. Leaning closer,
one hand on my trembling manifold.
Ronald Koertge's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Body Shop by Ronald Koertge )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Our Roads, Somanathan Iyer
- It's Not Just Rain, Daniel Skentelbery
- The Day After I Shouted Abuse at the Queen, Daniel Skentelbery
- Name-Calling, Diane Hine
- A pan fried fish…?, Mark Heathcote
- The Persecuted, Sandra Feldman
- wedding day, ademola oluwabusayo
- Dream the moon, Somanathan Iyer
- आंनि देरा, Bahadur Basumatary
- Oh Israel, Michael Shutt