Thursday, April 23, 2009

CAR WASHER

in the shadows of the cobalt hotel
obedient cars are lined up
sinking into the pot holes
from last winters freeze

being the lead man i exhale
clouds of frosty carbon dioxide
waving in the next car

my purple bald head hidden
beneath wool toque and soggy earmuffs
face covered with frozen beard

close by the the hose covered in ice
slippery and bleeding
from the broken water main

slowly drains
through the cigarette butts
and broken coffee cups

ankle deep in muddy water
i start hosing down the car
while singing your cheatin heart

looking forward to supper
and a bottle of red wine
no longer a starving artist
i now wash cars for a lving

12 comments:

gautami tripathy said...

So when are you coming over to wash my car?!

:D

Like!

Jessica GC said...

I like the way this flows. And I love the second stanza.

Christy said...

got to have a day job to put food on the table, being an artist never pays much till one is dead Ha!

Loved this!

watermaid said...

Sounds a bit cold, dirty and miserable to me...still there's supper and red wine to look forward to.

jimmmaaa said...

I liked this

Elizabeth said...

I like all the concrete details. Makes me not want to wash cars for a living.

Liz - www.blog.elizabethenslin.com

Danielle Mari said...

Not a starving artist, but a well-fed washer, eh? A tough choice to make!

angie said...

sounds very real-life! nice write!! ;)

Wayne Pitchko said...

thanks for comments....hey when your retired like me....easy to be an artist...never starving just living the good life in the mountains...but those poor washers of cars....my heart goes out to them...so i throw them a few loonies

Jeeves said...

Didnt realise car wash could be poetic:D

Pam said...

Great poem-- from starving artist all the way up to a car washer. I was once inspired by a car wash but you were able to get right down into the dirt and grime.

Jenn Jilks said...

Very evocative!