Corner Workers

A preview from my new book Fueled...to be released in 2010.

[Corner Workers]
Casey’s sandblasted, smiling face

greets me every time

I start a race at Willow Springs.

He is dressed in an angelic white

long sleeve tshirt and pants

to ward away the sun’s rays

and I think to look for his wings,

but then I realize that an angel

probably wouldn’t be missing front teeth

or have skin the consistency of a catcher’s mitt.

Perhaps.

He usually takes a minute to talk

before he waves us onto the track for the warmup lap

even though it is hard for me to speak

with a full face helmet

blocking my words.

His upraised thumb, and then mine,

however,

speaks volumes.

Corner works at Willow Springs.

I don’t know where half of them come from.

some of them are truly fucking bonkers

like the 40 year old woman in Turn 5

who stated that she used to manage Guns and Roses

yeah, right.

The sun bakes their brains

even more than

the locally manufactured

Methamphetamine.

And at the end of the year,

the racers all chip into the corner worker fund

to give them a little extra something

“to help make their child support payments”

one racer jokes.

Yeah, probably.

I remind myself

to always treat

even the strangest desert denizens corner workers

with respect

for we racers constantly put our lives

in their weathered hands.

And you never know.

A corner worker may be the last thing

you ever see

after a crash

and before the bright white light.