by Kelly K.
Family Video never knew such as you.
Asphalt and memories of a once wealthy town
Long since crackled in the heat of arguments and sun
You stand between thistles and gray abandoned pants.
People float around you to the bus stop
Or bustle past with PG-13 delights
As if you were never there.
You are the ghost of the parking lot, slowly
Draped in silver, or wrapped in red
Like a mortal call to prayer
You rise the sun up with your unmoving eyes
And set it with your brittle shoulders.