Detailer, 2003

when i was twenty
i dropped out of art school
took a job
detailing cars
for a week
they had an ad in the paper
seven dollars an hour
to breathe undercoating spray
and bathe in solvents and nasty chemicals
place was an OSHA nightmare class action lawsuit waiting to happen
an unlikely possibility though
most of the employees didnt read too good

see the japanese carmakers
they shipped mostly by rail
which meant that the new hondas
nissans
toyotas
arrived at the dealerships
covered in a fine grit
we called rail dust
our job was to wash this stuff off
and make the new cars look new
we found some marks we couldnt wash off
they were from acid rain i was told
it struck me as twistedly ironic
that we were struggling to keep the finish on new cars
from getting
fucked up
by pollution
made by cars

one day they had me working in this pole barn longside two teenage reprobates
pulling the packaging plastic
off the seats and interiors of landrovers and cadillacs
this fucked up ebonics-spouting fat white kid called his friend
"yeah man i just got done drivin' a new caddy!
shit was tight as hell!
an' i'm 'bout to hop in a new landrover too."
he bragged about his access to these totems of wealth and power
with overstated and hollow virility
but we were only getting minimum wage
to ready them for their new owners
who had to be rich as hell
compared to the likes of us
aint that america