Torque Mark

[Verse 1]
Got this half-moon brand on my left-hand knuckle
From a slip of the wrench on a fan belt buckle.
It's whiter than the rest of my skin in the sun,
A silver receipt for a job half-done.
Most days I forget it's even there at all,
'Til the cold comes in deep near the start of the fall.

[Chorus]
That little torque mark, she said would heal right,
Still shines like a low-beam in the Gallup night.
It ain't a heartache, and it ain't a prize,
Just the shape of her voice behind my eyes.

[Verse 2]
July, 'ninety-eight, her old Comet wouldn't start,
Swore that car ran on a stubborn, busted heart.
Felt the high desert heat off the manifold's steel,
Grease under my nails was the only thing real.
That last bolt was seized, I gave a hell of a pull,
And painted the engine block somethin' beautiful.

[Spoken Word Interlude]
(Sound of a rag wiping grease, a quiet sigh)
(Tired, warm female voice, close-mic'd): "Honey, you can't fix every stripped thread. Just clean it up. Come inside for some coffee."

[Chorus]
That little torque mark, she said would heal right,
Still shines like a low-beam in the Gallup night.
It ain't a heartache, and it ain't a prize,
Just the shape of her voice behind my eyes.

[Bridge]
She wasn't talking 'bout the engine, and it took me years to see.
Some rust you can't sand off, you gotta let it be.

[Outro]
Yeah, a little torque mark.
Shining in the dark.