A poem about washing my car and then what happens next.
9:30 a.m.
Connor and I hose my car
down with water.
I scrub
he rinses,
the hood,
back of car, and
both sides.
Hurrying before it got any hotter,
I dry it with worn, old towels
that my dad keeps in the garage for
this sole purpose.
Windex
paper towels
clean the windows,
speedometer,
clutch,
and other
interior places.
Two hours later
going out to the car,
I see a big blob
of white on the
passenger side.
Bird shit!
Oh man!
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!