Here it is, winter already in early November
and I’m trying to recall your face,
but all I can bring to mind is the way your
strong hands looked, with those long, thick
fingers reddening in bitter Wisconsin cold
as you pull that old Ford over to help a guy
who’s stuck on the side of Highway 27,
no houses in sight, just frosty, bare woods
on either side of the road.  It’s dark
and you’re bent at  the waist, penlight
in your mouth, head stuck under
his hood, and then you spray something
from a little can you pull from a pocket.
“Try it now,” you growl, and the engine
roars to life, your great, dirty-blond mane
shaking with satisfaction.   The guy offers
you a handful of bills, but of course you refuse
and we tear away toward Ladysmith
both of us basking in your good karma’s glow. 

Steve Klepetar's work has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Recent collections include Speaking to the Field Mice (Sweatshoppe Publications), Blue Season (with Joseph Lisowski, mgv2>publishing), My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto (Flutter Press), and Return of the Bride of Frankenstein (Kind of a Hurricane Press).