Missed connections: Walmart automotive dept—w4m—(Lunenburg MA)
Ian Williams. Personals. Calgary, Alberta: Freehand Books. 2012
1You. At the Tire and Lube Express. You said lube
2and I—did you notice?—revved. Your name tag
3was missing so I read your hair, curled like a string of e’s,
4your forearms drizzled with soft hairs like a boy’s
5first moustache. Apart from that, you were built
6like a walrus. The kind of man that drives a Ford
7pickup. Black or silver. You said, There might be a gas leak
8and We can’t fix that here, but don’t worry, we’ll get you fixed.
9By fixed you meant hooked up, by hooked up you meant
10in touch with and meant nothing beyond touch.
11Me. Volvo. Smelled like gasoline: I overfilled the tank
12before the oil change. I took the package that comes
13with a filter replacement. Have you already forgotten me?
14I had trouble with the debit machine. Remember? You said,
15Turn your card the other way—remember?—and took my hand,
16not the card, took my hand with the card in it
17and swiped it through. Remember. Please.
18The gasoline. The woman almost on fire.
RPO poem Editors:
Poem printed with permission of the author.