Guys in garages working on cars

Car hood open, they stand and peer in,
or just sit beside it
Like they’re sitting beside their best friend
in the hospital,
just keeping company
just keeping watch.
What are they doing?
And why are they doing it?
These solitary men, in their garages,
early Saturday morning,
late Friday night,
the lazy, long entirety of Sunday.

The garage doors are open,
but make no mistake,
you are not welcome in.
The space is unbreachable,
it’s a sanctuary,
it is nothing you’d understand.

Last night, walking the dog,
I saw an old guy
in a foldable chair
pulled up so close
to his red convertible,
he looked like a hood ornament.
It was midnight.
He looked at me and I at him
and I just walked on,
there is nothing to say to or ask of
a man and his car, in the garage,
at night.

They are there,
as if fulfilling a necessary purpose,
but it can’t be car repairs,
it can’t be replacing the brakes
or adjusting the steering,
They often don’t
even make a pretence of fixing anything.
I have never seen women do this,
stand or sit in their garages,
not even looking busy,
but looking like they’re
doing something important anyway,
claiming their right to be there.

Maybe these men aren’t
who they seem to be,
maybe they’re clued in
to secrets we can’t fathom.
Maybe if you cross this wire
and tighten this screw,
you can pick up messages from Mars
or at least from Billy down the block,
who says the game’s on at 7:00
and the beer’s run out.
Maybe they are mystics, meditating,
and have foregone the cave in India
for the comfort of their own garage,
where barricades of coolers, bikes and boxes
preserve their holy peace.

I could ask them, I guess, what they’re doing,
but it seems intrusive . . . rude. . . .
and anyway, I know
that I like not knowing.

It’s enough for me that they exist,
these men,
a percentage of the human race,
sitting, tinkering, keeping vigil,
at 7 in the morning,
at 11 o’clock at night,
that some of their number
at any time, at all times,
are keeping the faith,
alone in their garages,
peering into the hoods or just sitting,
busy, or just being,
beside an automobile.

From: 
High Five




ABOUT THE POET ~
Wendy Winn is American and Luxembourgish. Her poetry has published in several anthologies and literary journals and in 2021 she published her first collection 'Train of Thought'. She also writes short stories, children's books, novels and YA novels, and enjoys painting. She hosts a weekly radio show in Luxembourg, has three children, a dog and a cat.


Last updated February 18, 2023