The parking lot was a combination of tar and broken glass.
Under the glow of the
streetlights you could swear that you
were walking on the night sky. Crushing
stars, galaxies, beneath your boots.
Two shadows brushed by each other
the first grew to the size of the lot, becoming
a silhouette. The second became a rock.
In a gust of wind, the second shadow was
engulfed by the first.
A couple kisses in an
old beaten down car.
You watch closely, trace
the vapor leaving their noses,
Crammed on top of each other in the
drivers seat. The horn honks.
At the far edge of the lot
Shadows of birds flutter away,
afraid of the car horn judging them
for sifting through asphalt for gold.