I have so much to learn.
In some wayside garage
you'd give me Coke in green glass,
teach me to adjust a manifold intake.
We'd club-foot shuffle to B.B. King,
sand red oak for a table,
speak with action as much as word.
Full silence in steady rhthym
of hammer and anvil.
Overclock a laptop,
give it pimp-daddy speakers,
fix heels on cowboy boots.
At sunset we'd wash the grease and sawdust
from our hands, rinse clean, bright.
Over fresh salad and Greek wine
you'd tell me not to worry.
You never got the finer points
of dating either...