That Parking Lot Life / by Heidi Geist

Buzzzzzzzzzzing power poles—football stadium lighting in lots—Long haul neighbors let engines run late—doors slam.

Cars come, cars go—-some peel out.

Alarms are neglected while panicked drivers fumble

I hung curtains, but still, my windows are down—or I suffocate—hot nights are torturous in questionable lots

The sun is up already? I lift my head, NO. It’s just the buzzing lights.

The sun is really up now. No.

The sun does rise, but like the wolf—and the boy goes unheard.

Sleep is evasive | elusive | broken

Dreams reflect a state deprived of rest, and rest comes only in dreams.

I did it all for the art.