Looking out to a average lot, This is stary night Not quite right.
But prettier than it looks, All geometric, all lines and metal Maybe so unnatural that it’s human With that engineered way of being.
Metal painted spines grow Tall lights hang above, Like things you can’t quite reach, maybe love.
This is parking lot loneliness The quiet chill of a tailgate Acne of a dented car, Bunks for measly squares