Parts


	ERIC GREEN
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PARTS

I walk into a parts store.
Behind the counter lurks
A big ex-Heaven's Devil--
Dirty bandanna, gray beard over
A bigger gut. Behind him a display
Of graduated wrenches.
"Hep ya?" he says.
"Yeah, I need a stomach for a 1956 Green."
"Oke doke. Let's see what we got."
He opens the massive soiled parts book.
"That was a '57 Green you said?"
"No, a '56."
"V-8 or straight-6?"
"Straight-7."
"The high output?" He cocks an eyebrow.
"Yeah," I mumble vaguely.
"Damn," he says, "you must get a lot
of requests for rides."
He is staring now. I get uneasy.
"How about the stomach," I say.
"Right, right."
He goes back to leafing.
"Those '56 Greens are notorious for bad stomachs.
Got to run too much high octane fuel, right?"
He won't leave it alone.
"You know it, bub, they drink it right up,"
I say, in character now.
"But the performance is worth it!"
There's a silence; I'm thinking.
"Sometimes I wonder . . ." I say,
But he gets down to work,
And after a visit back among shelves
He brings back the square box,
Opens it,
The beautiful new pink stomach
With just the correct acid coating
Resting in his grimy hands.
"That look like what you need?" he asks.
I am in awe.
"That come with all the clamps?" I say
So he won't see the dampness in my eyes.
"Sure does. Hey,
This 'ill put that rig running right."
He smiles. He knows.
The price was high,
But being a hard to find part
I didn't hesitate.
After all
1956 Greens are getting scarce.