a poem- inspired by Bill N
It's a draft- so I'd love feedback
At 18, I took that job
pumping gas,
full-service. Sunoco
gave me a shirt-
"Jeff"- (he'd worked there
many years).
Pumping gas was not that bad.
I excelled at washing windows and
making change.
But once a day, you
would ask me to
check your oil.
I'd pop the hood and look
around, unsure, unable
to find what I was looking for.
I'd count to ten,
slam-shut the hood and come
round to your open window.
"You're doing fine, but next time
you might need some oil."
You'd drive away, never
knowing who I really was,
and I hoped
you'd do better next time, find
an attendant
who knew what
he was doing. Now,
I'm better with cars, but still
fumbling under the hood,
pretending I know how and when
to give you what you need.
2 comments:
As I read your poem I have an image in my mind of going to gas stations with my mom and watching the attendant check the oil and clean the windshields. It makes me nostalgic for the '70s simply because that's when I grew up. At the same time, I think the voice in the poem is one filled with a lack of self-confidence. So, is the poem about the author's abilities under the hood or about the fact that someone used to actually look under the hood? or both?
Josh- thanks for your note and for reading. It is another era, wasn't it, the full service experience. I think I was remembering and "fictionalizing" being young and unsure about lots of stuff, including cars. Thanks again.
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