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For Anna (at 'Jiffy Lube')


Anna,
my oil change princess,
my anti-freeze queen,
my blue-eyed goddess of
timing belts and air filters, --
this one's for you.


Out of school and out of money,
(I know, you majored in music,)
they hired you because you were a girl,
a stunning garnish
to deck the gray lives
that don't change after 3000 miles.


You were good, very good,
working the hoses like strings on a cello,
moving your hands with graceful confidence,--
a white swan gliding across a greasy lake.
They wanted a piece of you, no, all of you;
you were a golden egg, stained with oil.


Praying I would get you, I came in often,
breaking things on purpose or making stuff up, --
there was a puddle under it when I woke up, etc.
I think you knew, but never showed it;
You'd smile, melt me with your eyes,
take the keys, and float right by me.


Your funeral was quiet, like you.
A tragic accident, they said.
The Dodge crushed you like a doll, --
Something about a lifting jack cracking.
I stood in the rain, next to the shop crew.
Our greasy lake was empty again.