my guy

I have a guy
she says,
my mechanic.
he knows everything
there is to
know about my
car. if a strange
light goes on,
or I hear
a whirring noise,
he knows what
to do.
he's my guy,
my car go to guy.
behind the greasy
overalls,
and the bloodshot
eyes, the tattooed
neck
and cigarette
breath, he is
a saint inside.
he's my miracle man,
my mechanic,
my guy.