Garage

Garage
By Jimmy Passaro

It was never necessary to have a garage
the cars were always parked on the lawn
a poor attempt at being flashy or a
proud declaration of being trashy, in either case
the garage was as empty as your heart
you cared too much or you didn’t care at all
or it depended on the days

your neighbor was a cornfield
which neither awed over
nor complained about
the shingles falling from the house
that would be devoured on impact
by the weeds surrounding

I never understood the extravagant block parties
yet, still people came
mileage never seemed to be an issue
and you bred cows
but never used their milk or meat
cows aren’t pets
companionship comes in different facets

So far secluded, yet so desperate for human interaction,
such inconsistencies would place a city boy on a farm.
The two hour commute never made much sense either.
“But God is in that field,” you’d say, which was funny.

When I’d park on the side of the road,
at night I’d go into that field
and be more lost than before I entered.
I’d always wait until morning to get out…
Because that’s when I waited to cry for help
you always heard
and found me so quickly
never asking why I was there.
Lock-jawed
as we walked back to the house
clinging to each others cognition
I wished I never took the walk back; but I owed you my footsteps
and I’d always be the first to crack and ask how you found me so fast,
and you were never inconsistent with your answers

“God is in that field,” you’d say,
But this time you added something
“And my garage isn’t as empty as you might think.”