car hell

you get a note
in the mail from
your car manufacturer.
bring it in now, it says,
or your car may
explode in a firey
ball because of a
defective spiral cable.
there may be complete
failure of your automobile
at any moment so be
warned,  do not drive
your vehicle one inch
until this is repaired.
so you a wait a few
weeks until you have
a day off from work
then drive it in.
oh yeah, sure, we can
fix that, the guy says
at the service  bay.
he might be twelve
or thirteen, he has a
skateboard under his arm.
fill this out then go sit
in there. free coffee
and donuts, he
says, smiling, showing
his braces full of chocolate.
the room is littered
with absorbent
cloth chairs that have
the history of spilled
beverages upon them.
a mr. coffee machine
buzzes on the counter
where a box of donuts
sits open to the flies
and the greasy hands
of mechanics who
come in to eat them
with one bite.
richard burton
and liz taylor are on
the most recent magazines,
as is the corvair, america's
newest and most safe car.
you hold your hands and
arms up in the air like
a surgeon before he operates
then carefully sit down next
to a woman who is crying
and blowing her nose
into her sleeve. her
leg is rattling against
the chair like a butter
churn. everyone
waiting looks dazed
or drugged.
kelly and regis are on
a tv that sits in the corner
next to the unisex bathroom.
the volume is set
on high as they
discuss the musical genius
that is justin bieber.
dante's inferno has nothing
on this place.
you have landed
in hell, car hell.