Sunday, October 2, 2011

parking machine

holding the ticket in my hand
about to feed it into the machine
a wind suddenly appeared
and it flew away up high
like a concord

i was trapped in the carpark
walking among the vehicles
i idly let my key slice away
at a few years of dirt and paint
eloquently delinquent

when after a few years i found
a trapdoor between the oil stains
i opened it up with my bare hands
and found a metal ladder leading down
into a dank and fumiferous place

i heard drips below and my
hands were cold on the greasy rungs
as i descended below into the bowels
of the car park. distant machinery
noises were my only friends

when finally i reached the floor
covered with rainbows in puddles
and mankness i remembered that breeze
that had whipped the ticket from my hand
it was the sound of our laughter