Below is the poem entitled The Parking Garage which was written by poet
Arroyo. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Samia Ali Arroyo
I took my mother to the doctor just the other day.
An odyssey of sorts and an adventure I must say.
We came down from the mountain to the city about nine.
In spite of some construction work we made it there on time.
We entered the garage and slowly started up the screw.
Looking for a spot, knowing there would be so few.
Another parking pickle, we would have our work cut out.
A predicament of parking, and a challenge without doubt.
Up to level three and still we couldn’t find a place.
And then right to the left, finally, an empty space.
But it was not to be, it was an empty spot mirage.
A motorcycle parked inside a parking space garage.
We kept on going up to level four, the color green.
It certainly was the most crowded that we’d ever seen.
And then a possibility, a space just to the right.
Zooming in, I saw it, like radar in my sight.
But disappointment struck again, it was the old routine.
A car parked in two spaces, now I started feeling mean.
Now why the heck did they not park inside the yellow lines.
They’re lucky they do not give out illegal parking fines.
Finally, we found one, such a treasure to behold.
A place to rest our weary car, a story to be told.
We slipped right in the vacant spot, with smiles upon our faces.
Amazing how such happiness is brought by parking spaces.
Then just before our lights were off the pressure had begun.
For it was not yet over, not nearly were we done.
A yellow car was waiting with its high beams burning bright.
The older couple looking very desperate – what a sight.
‘No,’ I shook my head we have just now pulled in this spot.
Their faces turned from desperate into angry, twisted knots.
Then slowly they drove past me with a fire in their eyes.
I quickly stepped aside for not a thing would have surprised.
And then ten seconds later a big motor bike arrived.
The driver had a look that seemed to me to be contrived.
What could the man be thinking, to park right by my side?
My look said, ‘Don’t you try it, keep on stepping with your ride!’
Finally, we walked away, car parked, alarm turned on.
Heaven knows what antics would occur while we were gone.
Behind us was a long parade of drivers and their plights.
Like prisoners, all trapped, inside a sea of blinking lights.