Parking Lot Meditation

PARKING LOT MEDITATION Leaning back on my car hood the old blue skies have my eyes squinting ion clues of a melody wanting to be born of scars in me innerspheres humming to a song an accompaniment to this show of seagulls’ white wings soundless in a crowded messaging sky shared with jets of travel and wars lost in a gleam of black crows eyeing gold corn tasseled rows in a farmer's field beyond this blacktop mall as tissues catch my blow of sun sneezes in this Wal-Mart parking lot as micro America flows through a non-returnable Sunday we are all too much with stuff and ink yet I ponder to inhale what is beautiful Charles Eastland