Downpour driving through
the construction zones in hospital alley
nearly made me a concussed customer
for one of those emergency rooms
but I avoided hydroplaning trucks
belligerent minivans
oblivious hybrids
even a rap-thumping Buick
nearly cut me off
between orange cones
screaming smooth under the stoplight
grateful for no cop car in sight –
the whack smack
dance of my wipers
cleared my soaked vision
just enough
to let me sail on
down to my damp exit
where I swung my soggy Ford
onto a side street praying
someone get the need to leave
open up a parking space for me –
who says I can’t make miracles
happen when I’m running
late as the mad hater to tea –
the crying sky is wailing wet
over everything
but there just happens
to be time left
on the proud parking meter
at the cafe door.
5 comments:
yay! this felt just like a frantic car ride. the one i take every time i get in a car, maybe. only you got a parking spot at the end...
Very nice, Myra!
The first two lines, though, I tripped on before I continued without a hitch.
I love the idea of making a poem about looking for a parking spot in the rain! I also really liked "whack smack/dance" and "soggy Ford". I found crying sky a bit too easy though... can you push the image further?
whack smack is great! I'd drop the dance.
I'm lying in bed reading this poem and you've taken me on a drive... thanks for this!
Wow. Is mad "hater" a typo? I hope it's not, or serendipidous if it is. I too love the energy of this poem.
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