and older,
some young,
but most with grey
in their hair, and bellies
over their belts, they
love their garages.
their tools and restored cars.
the work bench
with a broken drawer
waiting to be fixed.
they pull up the double doors
on the weekends
and turn on their radios.
yes, radios.
they have an easy chair
in the corner.
maybe a lamp and
a small fridge with beer.
there might be a flag
on the wall,
tin posters of retro girls
with long legs
and come-hither smiles.
the men wave to anyone
that's passing, to the beeping
of horns. to neighbors
stopping by.
somewhere a wife
is out there in the world
shopping,
or maybe on the phone
inside.
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