Over 50 years ago, Mr. Weber
the auto shop owner, walked
toward the open doors, I turned to
run, he called, "Hey, son, come in"

He took my hand, we walked onto
an oil splatter floor, a smoky haze dangled
men welding, sparks flying, acrid smells of
lacquer and gasoline crawled onto my
clothes and into my nose. Overhead
engines suspended like bats in their cave

"This is my hospital," Mr. Weber said
Parts and tools placed with medical precision
Bumpers and fenders waited in orthopedic array
Mechanics performed miracle operations

When a tow truck arrived shouts of
Code Blue could almost be heard
He pointed to a cured patient
"See, ready to go home"

I visited Mr. Weber many times
Worked for him during high school.

Now 50 years later
I gaze at the shop, cracked
walls, doors crazy quilted shut
sign bedraggled and askew

Shouts
"Stand clear."
"Fire in the hole."
Flash, ka-boom!

A death rattle shudder, buckle, collapse
Smoke and dust mushroom clouding the air
Piles of rubble fall littering the ground
Weber's gone...memories tucked in my heart