Fresh Oil

 

 

~

 

In the garage, while he changes the oil,

We talk, my father and I, about school and life,

His and mine, mostly mine. He talks

About ten-w-forty versus ten-w-thirty

At this time of year, and I talk about stop-motion

Animation, which is my favorite class.

We talk about mom in a good-natured way,

And bro in a sappy, fond way, the big puppy.

While the oil drains he cleans the chain,

Adjusts the tension, cleans the rims and spokes.

We talk about music, Abbey Lincoln 

And Radka Toneff, and Have Yourself

A Merry Little Christmas, which he is teaching

His guitar class. We talk of tire pressure

And Thoreau, Han Shan, Paris, and—

Pass the twenty millimeter socket, please.

He tightens the axle bolt, then torques it,

Replaces the oil drain plug, puts the skid plate

Back on, adds fresh oil, runs it for thirty

Seconds, checks the oil, adds a little more.

There, he says, rubbing Goop on his hands.

Do you like school, he asks. I do, I say,

And mean it. Do you like work, I ask.  

It's complicated, he says. He cleans up his tools.

The garage is cluttered, in a systematic way,

With his tools, mom's ceramics and artwork,

Lawn and garden tools, his practice amp

And Les Paul, Ralph's bedding and cat food dish,

Oak, pine, cherry, walnut, basswood boards

On the racks, waiting for the cross and rip blades.

He asks, slantwise, are you seeing anyone.

I say no, and I say yes. I say she's hard to see.

Très cryptic, he says. Oh, I say, I don't mean to be.

It's complicated. I imagine it is, he says.

Mom opens the door, dinner's ready, she says.

We walk to the house, my arm in his. Daddio.

 

 

 

 





Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 782 times
Written on 2015-11-19 at 06:28

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Nancy Sikora
I love the myriad meanings of "she's hard to see." It says it all.
2015-11-21



He asks, slantwise, are you seeing anyone.
I say no, and I say yes. I say she's hard to see.
Très cryptic, he says. Oh, I say, I don't mean to be.
It's complicated. I imagine it is, he says.

this is for me the most enigmatic part as likely the best part also

it is also the part,which i am not sure, i didn't the meaning very clear
just because of a single word the (xhx) ... i thought you might find it interesting to know for an ESL poet as me
2015-11-20


countryfog
There are things one remembers fifty years later, not as more than they were then but with the certainty and gratitude for how complete and perfect they will seem now. I suspect this will be one of them for you.
2015-11-20



I enjoy the easy flow of this poem as if it had been written without any effort. The relationship is so alive. I can't imagine ever having a conversation like that with my father. This is a work of art.
Ashe
2015-11-20


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is nice poem and a great representation of the special relationship fathers and daughters have. My daughters and I can talk like that, and doing so always is very rewarding.
2015-11-19



My dad was an auto mechanic, so he was no stranger to oil :)

I don't remember us, though, ever having delightful conversations like this and for that I feel much regret. Your poem coheres well and is very nicely put together. This is one of my favorites of yours.
2015-11-19


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
I like this story-poem - flows - like stream. I find W D 40 - usfull to get stubborn nuts a moving!
Ken D :) ;)
2015-11-19