Garage Enigma
It’s impossible to stay
any length of time in the garage
without feeling lonely – which I am not,
only crowds bring me loneliness.
At one time, I had planned to drink a bottle of bourbon,
and smoke an expensive cigar in that garage,
then blow my brains out.
That was when the cancer diagnosis
dropped into my lap like a dead bird.
I wallowed in a hissy-pool of self-pity
until I sensed that even the lonely garage
begged me to shut the hell up.
We have mice, and sparrows,
the mice live quietly raising mousy pipsqueaks
that pip and squeak behind deeply piled boxes.
The sparrows are peripatetic,
coming and going at will,
don’t ask how, it’s a mystery.
The garage has this one mood
that does not change with the seasons.
It makes space for me despite the lack of room.
It sighs when I sigh,
It casts a mirroring shadow,
makes that shadow whisper into my ears.
Waits patiently
for me to say something out loud
then it gets quiet,
a sense of being found, but still lost
steals over me.
It’s then, at those times, I still wish
for a good smoke and a bottle
of Kentucky moonshine.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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