F Street Garage

by Aleza Freeman

Raindrops falling on water

Image via Wikipedia

In Arcata, there was the rain,
that persistent flow of rain
muddying the streets.

Walking to school,
cuffs of my pants soaked
despite the umbrella.

My car at the
F Street Garage,
top down and stuck,

the mechanics with their
long snarled beards and
warm, inviting smiles,

honest and
hardworking by
the Golden Harvest Cafe.

Old grown, homegrown,
grown-up hippies,
fixing cars and healing souls.

I miss those guys!

***

Originally written in 1999. Edited and posted January 2011 for Thursday Poets Rally Week 37 & One Shot Wednesday

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