Waiting for smog to finish. Odd
waiting room. Separate from shop.
No tv, some random magazines on
Wall. This little car of mine, it better
Pass. Not in mood for a fail. 4 shots in
The mocha. Warming me, as I
Comically chose to sit by the door. This unusually cinematic fog,
Dampening all these Santa Rosa
Streets. Should make a couple calls,
While I’m here by Self, in intermittent
Quiet. But I’d rather write. Think a
Man’s going to join
Me… And yes. Large, with leather
Jacket, sipping enormous soda through
Straw. He selects one of the magazines.
So much
For my peace, I’m thinking, as he
Coughs, obstructively clears his throat,
Sniffles. “Well is he coming for me or you?” he says, watching smog man approach the door, grinning.
“I don’t know. We’ll see I guess,” I
return.
Smog man flies through door. “Scion,”
he says.
“Well there you go, guess it’s you
today,” the man says.
“Guess I win,” I say.

Walked back into the shop area.
Greeted by a pass.

11/26/12