A light cloak of mud caressed the chassis of the Toyota Matrix. The blue exterior still crying out from below, weathered in places. Guilt brings me to this place. I fill a bucket with cold water from the spigot. Waxy soap froths onto the oil patched concrete. Coldness lurks up my arm as I dip the sponge into the suds. Drenched, the sponge thumps on the hood. Slowly and methodically the vehicles sapphire shimmer emerges. Every orifice of the chariot diligently polished.

Then, sun hits the vehicle hard on one side, drying quickly. It is soaped again in hopes that it may be rinsed before the golden rays leave white encrusted memories. Visions of old cars flash through my mind, and memories of the same chore emerge. In time it will all happen again.

(Written April 24, 2006)