My Father’s Garage

Two car bays and a concrete floor
Covered with oil stains
And kitty litter;

Six tool boxes on rolling carts
With smooth sliding drawers
And flaking red paint;

Apothecary chests filled with
Nails, nuts, bolts, washers
And other small things;

Retro memorabilia:
The Texaco star
And Ford tractor parts;

Chevy manifold on the bench
From his last project,
And starting to rust;

The smell of ninety-weight, so thick,
Clinging to my throat
And old oil drain pans;

Tattered coveralls in a heap,
Holes mended with love
And Mother’s patches;

Fifty-gallon barrel trash cans
With faded red rags
And anti-freeze jugs;

My uncle’s girly calendars
From nineteen-sixty
And the saw blade clock;

But now, all that’s left to see in
My father’s garage
Is that he isn’t there.

Inspired by Writer’s Digest Poetry Prompts: 183 | For today’s prompt, take the phrase “This Is What (Blank) Looks Like,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

And before anyone asks, I’ve not yet lost my father, and I am grateful for that every single day.

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