Vertigo violet
swept up in that sash of hair
punchs a metal funnel into the oil tin
feeds it in a delicate fist to the thirsty
mouth of valve cap opening
the dark shade quite then the blare
of hell fire summer hot
the heat resistant felt blowing on one
corner of the great bonnets sheeet
metal held up with coiled hinges

hips on the fender
like warm honey the petroleum
drools out
viscous liquid
in the background the bell rings
the glass site gauge swirls its
balls while fuel gurlges and gushs
into the great reservoir beneath the
trunk
Leaded not premium
fills up the neck and kicks the
heavy chrome and steel handle
off
the pump motor stops
the guage wheels close
at fifteen dollars and sixty two
cents
pulls up the can
and spout..screws the cap
walks to the hood and with a
hefty pull down it slams shut
walks to the rear bumped
and pulls out the dripping
nozzle...holding the plate
down twists on the gas cap
flips the handle switch
and hangs up the thick
rubber hose...

in her boots walks too the
drivers window
takes his visa card
and runs it through the
swipe machine to make
a copy...

"Like me to clean your windshield?"

but he shakes his head no
makes some small talk
and drives the sedan away
after thanking her

four more hours and she can
head home
pick the kid up from her moms
go and have dinner with her
pop and phone her old man
another four months and he
gets released

she can feel the heat
shimmering off the highway
off the chrome
off the top of her head

time to head in
for an Orange Crush
and a menthol
between fill ups
strawberry alarm clock
plays on the radio
as she grabs a stool
seat and digs out
her Ronson lighter

...