THE MECHANIC

He lies
Down on his back

And his eyes
Blur
And glisten
With fabulous speed
As he tinkers
On the belly of his car.

But as he lies
(Lying for years)
His face grows black
And the hands
Get gnarled,
Struggling
With great wrenches
In the misery of gears.


Last Modified 29 May 2007
© David Lyttle 1959, 2007