15 Minute Parking


15 Minute Parking

Her warm breath is violent,
forcing fall colors to loose the fight.

They crackle under a
Mother and Child lost in schedules.

A busy Man who talks to his hand,
crunch, crackle, crunch.

A Teen with her life on her shoulder,
crunch, crackle, crunch.

A roar in the clouds passes
through and fades away to exotic places.

The soothing rhythm of words,
a reminder of another kind of travel.

Her breath tickles my skin and she whispers,
“Please, stay a little longer.”

But I have zero minutes left.

– Susan Stone – copyright 2017