Creative Writing Poetry Assignment

FILLING STATION

Oh, but it is dirty! —this little filling station, oil-soaked, oil-permeated to a disturbing, over-all black translucency. Be careful with that match!

Father wears a dirty, oil-soaked monkey suit that cuts him under the arms, and several quick and saucy and greasy sons assist him (it's a family filling station), all quite thoroughly dirty.

Do they live in the station? It has a cement porch behind the pumps, and on it a set of crushed and grease- impregnated wickerwork; on the wicker sofa

a dirty dog, quite comfy.

Some comic books provide the only note of color— of certain color. They lie upon a big dim doily draping a taboret

(part of the set), beside a big hirsute begonia.

Why the extraneous plant? Why the taboret? Why, oh why, the doily? (Embroidered in daisy stitch with marguerites, I think, and heavy with gray crochet.)

Somebody embroidered the doily. Somebody waters the plant, or oils it, maybe. Somebody arranges the rows of cans

so that they softly say: ESSO—SO—SO—SO to high-strung automobiles. Somebody loves us all.