Parking Lot
I’m in a car, and the car is filling.
The way water fills a bucket, but harsher.
I open the window, and evil rushes out.
Breathing, and sighing.
Breathing, and my face feels swollen.
I haven’t left the parking lot.
The bustling and clanging that seemed so harsh before-
Is now like the sound of a hammer tapping a nail from a mile away.
The grocery store, and the groceries are melting and dying in my trunk.
Turning on the car.
The sound is gentle and rumbling,
Like my stomach.
Rolling the window up.
Rolling my car home.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
