At some point
The spot is empty,
Curious versions of vacancy leaning more
And more towards optimism.
As the sun-dial silently strikes,
And professes from it’s bellows,
A resounding nothing.
It isn’t ever empty or full because of its relative proximity to the
Some nearby front door.
Because it is equal distance from both.
But after that initial time
Of being empty,
Whilst running on fumes,
Whilst watching dragons fly,
Its two faded white boundaries,
Never withstanding the elements for very long.
(That have no bars)
These barriers that corral sleeping cars like
Animals under a tranquil spell.
Placed by a wizard in a white coat.
Many invisible tethered horses,
Inevitably will whine as their metallic hooves
Stomp out fires
Swat at the swarms of poisonous flies,
That surround the
Tiny unnamed lakes of oil.
That will know evaporation long before they know exploration,
And that have the uncanny ability,
To change color like
A brilliant reptile,
Or a science-class prism.
There are other peculiar happenings,
Inside those two white lines.
After no certain amount of traffic
As the afternoon noisily buzzes…towards infinity.
And the cicadas gaily sing along…towards infinity.
Some tentative residents
Who stare from closed windows,
(Locked of course)
Scrambled or otherwise,
Burning on that hot ground,
Providing a dirty,
But necessary breakfast.
(Minus the pancakes)
As they selfishly keep their own eggs to themselves,
Tucked away in pastel crates,
Pastel cribs that comfortably seat two dozen.
Two dozen individual conundrums.
Seated in that pink auditorium,
Made mostly of Styrofoam.
Mostly providing puns and the occasional
And then the spacial parking spot is partially on it’s own again,
As a few casual coins subsequently join the asphalt dinner party.
Circular traces of Copper and Nickel are reluctantly abundant here,
In an otherwise periodic sea of ultra-violence
Powerless power-lines that tower overhead like nesting condors,
Welcome the tiny currency.
As the new guests to the space.
As the new ghosts to the space.
They are both the rent and the
Tenants of this space,
And the penance of the parking lot.
(This new world)
Accompanied only by an army of ants.
And ministries of microscopic gravel
(Who are ordained in both diplomacy, and geology)
That fervently protects this fortune,
This good fortune,
From beast and
Until a passing grasshopper becomes complacent.
This fortunate coinage.
Gaining convection as they bake at high noon,
Gaining momentum as they bake at high noon.
Providing more protein than any
Scrambled or otherwise.