Idling In The Queue At The Car Wash,
Waiting For Baptism And A Clean Car,
Mulling Over The Sins Of The Past Few
Weeks Since The Last Call, Watching
The Not-Too-Dirty Drivers In Front
Of Me Paying For A Clean Slate, I Wait,
Re-Think, Can-‘t Pull Out Of The Line,
Trapped Between The Casual Owners Whose
Consciences Wear A Little City Grime,
I Must Look Terrible, Caked In Muddy
Thoughts And Impure Intentions, Not Even
Sure I Have The Money To Pay The Ferryman
To Get Me To The Other Side Of The Sprayers,
Brushes, Wipers, Blowers, Foam, Wax, And
Absolution. It Might Be Easier To Get A New Car.
The Other He Was With Me When Husband Called.
Then I Heard No More, Until They Came To The Door,
This Sombre Notice, In My Hand, Giving It To The
Car Wash Attendant, Who Doesn-‘t Seem To Understand,
He-‘s Dead, I Say, Leaving It With Him, Car Unwashed, I Drive Away