Car Wash

A friend had asked me to detail some expatriate experiences and this is one of those isolated, scary memories:

“Yes, what do you want?”, he shouts
in a hate-filled,menacing tone,
“Isn’t this a car-wash?
Isn’t this what you’re all about?”, I ask.
“Yes, ma’am that is our task”,
he sneered,
and suddenly I felt afraid,
all alone.

“You want me to wash your car?”,
a flash of bad, gold-capped teeth,
stressing ‘me’ and ‘your’
he seethes,
as he violently kicks in
my door.

“I had a job! I had a life!
I drove a fancy car,
Now you’re in here,
You demand a wash,
When I’d rather
Slash a tire,
with this knife!”

“This is my country,
my home!
Go back!
From where you came!
Leave us alone,
leave us in peace,
go back
where you belong!”

I step out,
feigning calm,
Examine the dented door,
note down his name,
and warn him
in a steely tone,
(I barely believe)
of the next legal game
of charging him with
a minor misdemeanor
and a call
from my insurer!

“For this is my home
as much as yours,
and the law is,
on my side,
take control of your
so called life,
and carve a niche for yourself
with your knife!”

3 Comments

  1. Your poem portrays a frustrated person who could not make it in life. You have written it beautifully.

  2. if this really happenned, you were brave! or that person was brave to whom it did."Carve a Niche" was a nice ending

  3. Well… I sometimes feel sympathetic towards such people… I guess we would react the same way had we been there../Alien


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