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Parking Lot
I sit here a numb girl
I am surrounded by concrete
There is metal too
And Plastic
Especially in the people.
The sculpted nature that I see
Has cigarette buds
And a paper bag
Who knows
What it's for
But it's starting to blend in.
I close my eyes
All I hear is traffic
Not cars and trucks
It's a constant buzz
I hear some birds
I wish it was they that deafn'd me.
I wear his sweatshirt
And sniff for his scent
But I smell my car
And the musk
I wonder if I smell
Like my Corolla's a.c.
On my right there's a canal
They dug it with trucks
A blue heron sits
On an unhappy branch
Of a pepper tree
The canal mocks them.
To my left is my car
Where his scent was lost
It sits by a median
Where sod is placed
To mock an island
In an ocean of concrete.
There is a tiled path
It lines a flower bed
Next to the canal
The sidewalk is
Twice as large
As the flowers' resting place.
The sun tries to wake up
But as it opens its eyes
It is blinded
By the metal bench
That supports my body
And collects dew to trap it.
A car to my left
The color of clouds
Tries to swim in the ocean
That surrounds the "island"
I laugh because
There are no parking spots--
--in the Gulf.
~Kara Mae Adamo~