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March 15, 2019

Dark Parked Car

Sitting in a dark parked car waiting in the dark parking lot for the damned and waiting for an angel to save me and watching what bears watching in this dark mind...half moon way up high in the sky...I swear it winked at me...flashing red and green lights overhead...the 8:15 non-stop to LaGuardia maybe...across the street, a suite hotel with a sweet room on the third floor illuminated and where I can see the television flashing through the window sound, no idea of what is showing--just colors flashing and light going from bright to dim and dim to bright...trying to imagine who might be in that room...maybe a business woman or man relaxing after a day of presentations, meetings, or whatever they do...road warriors...or it could be a Dad, Mom, and kids here on vacation—probably not much different than mine was years and years ago when the world was a kinder place and we visited some obscure aunt and uncle in Miami Beach who I don’t remember ever hearing much about again...before interstate travel, it meant driving on state roads through two horse, one horse, and no horse towns...all I remember are slivers of moments swimming in a hotel pool—not really swimming but floating with some water wings buckled on me so I wouldn’t drown...but it didn’t matter...I dove in the shallow end and drowned in the deep end later on in life...and that they had three little dogs...poodles I think—I was four at the time and the back of the camera in my mind was opened so a lot of the pictures got underexposed or didn’t develop at all...back in the car waiting still...people pass on the sidewalk below talking in voices that are too loud and don’t give a damn if anyone is listening and cursing about things foreign to me...what passes for modern conversation these days is one swear word after’s a damn shame people don’t know how to express themselves without swearing anymore, but I guess it makes you sound badass...I had a cousin who was like nine or so that kept swearing...his mother (a different aunt) one time made him wash his mouth out with soap after he swore—afterwards, she said she asked if he’d learned his lesson about not swearing after that...she said he replied “Yeah, but I can’t get all this damn soap out of my mouth”...little further down the street there’s a big building that looks inviting with laid back orange lights on the side of it..and a hundred or so balconies, all with the same kind of stuff on them with only minor variations—bicycles, grills, cheap plastic chairs to sit on and quietly get stoned while getting blinded watching sunsets that promise a better day tomorrow but never keep their promise...winter wind full of chill blows cold through the open car window but I don’t care and it feels good anyway...the smell of French fries wafting through the air and making me from passing cars thumping as they pass into the night like little planets spinning on four wheels in their own galactic world, a musica universalis…walkers walk through the shadows of the parking lot lost in their own world and thinking...who knows? passenger returns and gets in the car with her package and she smiles and we go to...who knows?