Cemetery Parking Lot
The space near the front
door – near push
carts – near blue
light specials – near a
lady from the salvation
army, ringing a bell –
swinging a red bucket,
half smiling, tilting
her hat – half smiling –
near double doors –
at the front entrance to
K-Mart.
I want to wait inside
our car – where a
cemetery surrounds
the hospital on the hill,
behind garbage bins –
near employee parking
where you can smoke.
I want to wait inside
the car while you
purchase paper towels,
toilet paper, garbage
bags, soap, and fabric
softener.
I wait in the car play
with the crank out window,
slip my fingers over
the steering wheel –
feel where a horn plays
music, feel a knob
which turns on wind shield
wipers – a knob –
to twist for headlights –
I wait in the car – remove
my shoes, toes touch a
brown – thicker – carpet
you replaced after you
spilled paint from a
hardware store –
I wait inside the car –
blow on windows draw
stick figures on glass –
blow on windows draw
houses, balloons and
cats –
I wait inside the car,
cover my legs with your
old navy blanket, rest
my head on a padded
arm rest – close my
eyes –
I wait inside the
car – falling asleep –
listening to a bell held
by a half smiling lady
near double doors –
opposite the cemetery
where you were laid
to rest.
Nancy Duci Denofio – 2010 @All Rights Reserved