A Poem

Parking Lot

We pave over a park the size of a wilderness.

The asphalt teaches our feet how to dance

on a stone face. No one hears us roll along the surface,

knowing ourselves. What does it mean to walk

on ground that gives?

When the moon appears I sidle up to you, wanting company.

I need whatever comes next, the distance slipping away

with the coming thunder. Cars pass us in their fury

to reach a vanishing point on the horizon. I work for smiles

and nudges, my mind reduced to a thirsty smudge.

What does it mean to be alone with you? I only know

your company. You are always with me—wife, coworker,

confidante, contender. You bring our children up

on potatoes and ham. They sop your spills. I live

with you in dirty dreams of labor that has no end.

Soap and water cannot clean me. Whatever we mean

we mean together.

Previously published in Asheville Poetry Review.

*More of my poems are available in my first book, Late Alabama, which may be purchased through Amazon. Peace.