At a Garage in Tallman
I brought my car in for inspection at Tallman Tire and Auto. A tall, thin man with graying brown hair under a Yankee fitted cap smiles. He was one of Frankie’s baseball coaches—Tyler’s dad.
We talk, friendly but guarded. He came for an inspection, too—after getting a ticket in Tuxedo Ridge. He’d gotten away with it since September—until then.
He mentions work—he’s in advertising—and then gets up to pay. A pleasant goodbye, and then he’s off.
I ask the attendant for an inspection and then settle in a comfortable, felt armchair.
Morning traffic passes by. I wait alone.
Sunlight off a Chrysler—
Echoes of friendly banter
in an empty room
Photograph by Ryan McGuireHire An Editor
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