.grubby cars. by Sonja Benskin Mesher

I am not a silent poet

i did not know when you started.

talking.

about the socks,      how

they are not made to last.

about those you were wearing

for five years.    i did not wish

to see your leg    sir.

about the chamois leathers, how

we used to have more variety.

which brought him to talk

about hand car wash. by

foreigners. his words not

mine.

insisted that they deliberately

scratch the cars, then turn their guns,

these foreigners. his words not mine.

i left, i am not paid to listen to  your racist

remarks sir.

i am paid to weave and serve another day.

he left without buying.

grubby cars

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