Contributor: J.K. Durick

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I took it to the shop. If it could be fixed
They would fix it and they did. It’s done.

It’s running, humming along, fixed, mended,
Like new again, doing what it’s supposed to do
Just the way it’s supposed to. It’s well oiled,

Certified, guaranteed, and stamped – like their
Sign says in English and Spanish, and another
Language I didn’t recognize at first.

I thought for a second, just at the end, that they
Were going to shake my hand, almost gentlemanly,
But they didn’t. Instead they handed me a bill;

Each task, each part, each gesture they made was
Itemized -- there was something added for disposal
Of my hazardous waste, a thing they handled discreetly

Without mentioning it aloud. Then they ran my card,
Had me sign three different places on their forms,
Gave me my keys, and then sent me on my way.

They told me where to find it in the lot – they were
Done with me. I was done with them. I was fixed.
They were fixed. We were done – the car could run.

It’s amazing what a morning, some gullible good will,
and a few hundred can get accomplished in our world.


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J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Pyrokinection, Record, Yellow Chair Review, Eye on life Magazine, and Haikuniverse.