In the process, I learned more than I needed to know about the workings of FOIL in NYS. And this, in turn, put me in touch with a poem I wrote several years ago – about a car.
Knowing Too Much
You know how it is
when you have a car
that no one seems to know how to fix
except Wrong.
Pretty soon, you can almost do it yourself
but you don’t have the tools
or the strength
so you drive the smitten vehicle
the bedbug of your existence
into the repair place which resembles
nothing less than a Roach Motel –
and when the Customer
Service Representative approaches
you leap out of the car
as fast as you can at age 69
flip up the hood and say
“Look there – and only there –
and nowhere else – and do not tell me
Again
that it is the color of my upholstery in the 90-degree heat
that has made my engine run too hot
and do not judge the level of my expertise
by my age, gender, or body habitus
because you have failed
five times
to fix this car
and I
am
supposed
to
take
this
pile of s**t
out
of town
in
five
1-2-3-4-5
days
to
a
funeral
I have read the manual
I have gone online
I have consulted men
I know more
about this car
than I should
so fix it
the frammus
is broken
Part # xyzfk102-b
needs replacement
it costs 79 cents
labor $250
now
