Carwash

I stared at the soap suds that fell upon the tarnished

vehicles, its reflective sight a depiction of endless

snow falling from the foggy sky, how it displayed

an array of hues across its surface, the way the colors

seemed to fade into each other, the way the water splashed

onto the wet pavement illuminated my soul.  I could see

the various people spraying their soiled vehicles down,

one strolling back and forth eyeing the exterior view of her

car, two pointing the spray gun at their dull, windshield wipers,

until its surface became a crystal-clear frame, some scrubbing

and washing, then washing and scrubbing the sticky mud stains

on their lifeless tires, working their sponges strenuously,

as their discolored tires begun to sparkle again.   Others dashed

around their cars and trucks in circular motions, power washing

the grime stuck in the groove of their mud guards, their faces

and clothes drenched with sweat.  Across from them, I could see

a few vacuuming and polishing the inside of their vehicles to a

spotless shine, while they stepped back and admired its amazing beauty. 

I looked at the guys bent down at their rims, dipping their rags continually

in the chrome polish, then cleaning their rims to a dazzling radiance.

When they were finished, they hopped into their rides and drove off

down the scenic landscape blasting heavy beats, as people marveled

at their flashy rims and stunning cars.  I inhaled the captivating sight all

around me and thought to myself, “This is the place where everyone comes

to restore their beauty and feel brand new again.