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The Parking Lot by =flossbetweenyourtoes:iconflossbetweenyourtoes:

Categories Literature > Poetry > Urban > Open


It was a hot evening day in the parking lot.
Air moved lithely with the things I forgot,
hot waves dodging things people bought.
What a seasonal day, finally, I thought.

I stepped across the dark pavement so neat,
the asphalt for tires so saturated in heat.
It came from below in slow torrents I'd meet
on my thin thighs, round waist and big feet.

My shoes made a crunch; I'd nothing in mind;
I looked to the sun and was nearly blind.
I looked 'round as cars made hum and grind,
But exhaust and smoke was all I did find.
©2009-2010 =flossbetweenyourtoes
:iconflossbetweenyourtoes:

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:iconconfusedrnormal:
*confusedRnormal Jun 9, 2009, 2:23:04 PM
I'm curious, is this piece metaphorical, or to be taken at face value?

Either way, the rhyming is solid, and the piece flows quite well.

--
~confusedRnormal -
Weaves the words that bring you to your knees.
'n stuff.
:iconflossbetweenyourtoes:
=flossbetweenyourtoes Jun 9, 2009, 2:27:29 PM
It's quite metaphorical. Though I was actually in a busy, hot parking lot, it was very "empty".

--
"A tragic situation exists precisely when virtue does not triumph but when it is still felt that man is nobler than the forces which destroy him." [Orwell]
:iconconfusedrnormal:
*confusedRnormal Jun 9, 2009, 3:13:45 PM
It provides a very nice framework for metaphorically describing a number of subjects; I can very easily see it describing a relationship in turmoil, a fight between a couple drifting apart, the assessment of the state of one's life at a given time (a snapshot, if you will)... I could go on forever...

It absolutely can become whatever the reader chooses to make of it, and that quality is difficult to achieve.

Thinking of it metaphorically makes it a much deeper piece.

--
~confusedRnormal -
Weaves the words that bring you to your knees.
'n stuff.
:iconflossbetweenyourtoes:
=flossbetweenyourtoes Jun 9, 2009, 3:56:19 PM
That's something I've always held poetry accountable to, and why I enjoy writing it. The interpretation of a poem is always relative to the reader, which separates poetry from any other form of literary expression altogether. A real story about a brief moment -- say, a few steps in a parking lot -- can become metaphorical for a vast number of experiences, even if the poet sits down and explains a piece's intended meaning.

I like your brain.

--
"A tragic situation exists precisely when virtue does not triumph but when it is still felt that man is nobler than the forces which destroy him." [Orwell]
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