Parking Lots
05/07/2007 08:25 p.m.
We had been through everything together, all of life’s little ups, downs, diagonals and sideways; we’d been down all the roads of life and in the parking lots that line it where people that have given up park their trailers and those of us who are just stopping for a breather could get trapped in a trailer of our own with a few rusty trucks in the overgrown lawn, suffering from the “I don’t care” epidemic that’s been sweeping this particular parking lot forever; we had always managed to escape the parking lots together, alternately dragging each other along until we’d hit the true road again and could run as fast as we wanted without the fear of falling and skinning our knees; he got tired and did not want to leave last time; he had his trailer with his old, rusty, blue Nissan in the grass that was waist-high in places and short and patchy in others; here is where he wanted to stay and wanted me to stay, too; I couldn’t stay; though, I tried, but I fell and skinned my knees in that parking lot and I couldn’t stand it, so I ran hard and got away.