ForgetfulA car that’s silky, painted blackForgetful by shizukaanu
and looks like you could immerse your hands
into the color, and hold it like water
sits in a dusty shed, and waits
each day to be driven,
or worked on by the blonde haired boy.
He strips off his jacket, and shirt
to contrast the heat in the room
that a small ac couldn’t sooth.
He pops the hood and leans
forward working quickly,
and working long. Wiping
his forehead with a hand,
and sighing when he can’t find
the source of the rattling noise.
Cleaning, fixing, and tinkering,
even if nothing is wrong,
the gentle clinking of his tools
and the creaks of the metal
with an occasional ‘crap’,
a harsh whisper, thrown in.
Then he’d put the finger he burned
or cut on some metal surface to his lips,
like a child with a scratch,
to keep it from bleeding.
The sun will rise high
and if you sit on the bench
then it rises behind him.
The black car and the shadow
of the boy, his unkempt hair
sticking out in fluffy tufts.