Her name is Lenore and she is the making
Of a leather-skinned mechanic's many hours
In a sticky Manila basement. Allen wrench in
Hand, he trues wheels and straights brakes as
My teenaged father watches in awe.
“AP classes are a scam,” he declares. To me, a college student who still remembers the long nights of studying, the endless bubble-in forms and cellophane-wrapped test booklets, and the hundreds of dollars shelled out every February, his words seemed a satisfying vindication of all I had suffered for less-than-thrilling results.