"Near Limbo"
At the very back
of a desolate property
on a very hot day off the tiniest street in East Oakland,
Lay a park
of parked vehicles.
It was a like a morgue,
only outside . . .
Nearly a hundred cars and trucks of
every conceivable style and age,
waiting to know their
Final Resting Place.
Some of them
showroom-perfect,
Some of them
clearly disabled.
Some destined
to find a loving home
with kids and dogs,
While some were destined
for the scrapyard,
indifferent to their fate . . .
An eerie silence —
save for the Tex-Mex music
blasting from a speaker —
Kept these vehicles from
arguing or
blaming each other.
Are you Michael?
a man who was assigned to my car
called out from a grey animate van.
I just need your key
and access to the ignition system.
He seemed right at home,
like a younger member of a family mortuary
gliding between coffins.
While he efficiently duplicated the fob,
I couldn’t help but notice
his angelic face and ever-present smile.
It’s easy to assume his whole family
grew up in the church.
As if this potentially life-saving duplicate fob
would someday protect my car
from a lot just like this one.
All done,
he intoned 12 minutes later.
I handed him a small wad of bills and asked for change,
he had none
and offered to accept less.
I protested and insisted on giving him
a well-deserved tip.
When he left,
I looked around again
at the rest of the cars and trucks,
patiently waiting for their final destinations
to be revealed.
And then
without thinking,
I looked up
and smiled . . .
June 2023
