Benjamin
Neal
Sweat and
Steel
Early afternoon at a local garage down on the
corner,
And all the boys are
there;
I pull my old Chevy up to the
door.
“Back it on in,” says Don,
nonchalant.
The tools are assembled, the air
tank fully charged,
But if you’re a car guy, then you
know how it goes;
Everything is easier said than
done.
Some broken bolt heads, a missing
window motor,
The new door doesn’t latch quite
right…
But for every problem, there is a
solution – or a shortcut.
Now no handful of guys ever
gathered around an automobile,
But that there was a beer in
every other hand,
And a stack of empty cans growing
steadily taller.
The talk is all
testosterone,
All masturbation and American
muscle.
The spectators are shouting their
encouragements
Between frequent trips to the
john –
“Brace your foot right there, and
give it hell!”
After much cussing and grunting,
and a few busted knuckles,
The project nears
completion;
The final screws are screwed in
place.
The floor is swept, the tools put
away,
Everyone lifts their drink in
celebration of a job well done.
The topic of conversation quickly
shifts from horsepower to pussy
As loose talk is further loosened
by the steady flow of booze.
We pass the hours ‘til closing
time
Telling stories and laughing at
dirty jokes.
We shout and sing along as Elvis
croons
“Polk Salad Annie.”
And later, when Dave decides its
time to close up shop,
I glimpse them in my rearview
mirror as I drive away,
And I smile.
Gray and greasy, in all their
half-drunken glory,
Swaggering like sailors across
the lot,
No men anywhere, anytime, were
ever so honest –
And none were ever so full of
shit.
They are like the earth itself,
all crude and dirty,
All rough edges, raw and
unpolished.
They are the remnants of a proud
and ancient tribe,
A brotherhood forged of sweat and
steel.
Beneath their banner, engineers
and ex-cons,
Hippies and hillbillies, addicts
and alcoholics,
Are bound together, denying no
one
Who comes with wrench in hand and
willingness to work.
Benjamin Neal is from Kansas City, MO, born
and raised. He fell in love with literature and poetry in high
school, and has been actively writing and reading his poems for
about two years. His inspirations are diverse, ranging from
life and relationships to works by other artists, to private
reveries and revelations. He is a musician, a father, a
brother, a son, and most of all, a human being; with all the
beauty and madness that comes along with it.
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