Car Wash

She said she felt dirty,

black grease clogging her pores,

from the smoking or the smog

or the garbage piling up beneath

her feet.

“How is all of this going to fit

in there?”

I grabbed the binoculars

and stared through the window

at the double-image of a Medicap

pharmacy and the blurred words

of the woman on the poster.

“I need to get my eyes checked,”

I’ve said almost daily

for the past four weeks.

The soap spray splattered my

khakis and I thought

“I’ve been meaning to wash these

for days anyway – they’re starting

to ride below my hips”

as I wiped

the suds