Poem Parking lot

I’m a lot

I’m a daughter, a sister, a friend, a colleague, a student, a lover, a customer, a pedestrian, a bicyclist, a car driver, a dancer, a bus user, a street abuser, a facebook friend

and I’m here and now

not there and then

I’m parked here, in this now

people come and pass by

some in a rush some with time

some see me notice me

some give me money, a coin or two

some don’t notice me at all

some spit at me, on me

YOU LOT! they say

yes I’m a lot

I’m a parking lot

I have all the people passing around through me

families, single people, old grand parents

homeless people, foreigners, inhabitants, land occupants

some come by almost every day

some pass me once and never come back again

I wonder if they’ve died

cause sometimes I hear harsh sounds

from the streets

cars crashing, lifes changing in a haste

don’t waste what you’ve got, I use to say


Before I used to be a running lot

running so many things

all the races that one could run

I was a rabbit, a wolf, a horse, a donkey, a metal horse and everything else that runs fast

I ran my own company and the family company, an association and a family

I ran on streets, in parks, in stores, in lines, in stairs, up and down, left and right

but I ran into the wall

and out again on the other side

and realized there was a new wall in front of me

and then yet another one, and yet another one

there are just walls in life when you run

so I stopped


so I’m a parking lot now

parking so many things

And I park cars

all the cars that people give to me

I nurse them for a while, like my kids

I give them oil, make them smooth

I polish them

since they are the shoes of our time

the front page

And I park all the people that pass by

that actually dare to look me in the eye

I park for a second, we park in a meeting

even for so short, in just an eye glance


And I park the air, the molecules and the dust

with my hand catching a part of the city in my palm

the lost moments of the streets and crossroads

dissecting the stress of the civilisation

And I park the seasons and trends

and the lost flowers, the autumn leaves

and I’m parking suns and sons

I’m parking-sons and diagnoses of our times

and the air born invisible kisses

I catch them

and then I send them on

after investigation and added love


I’m a lot

I am a parking lot

and I’m a vacant lot

you can fill me with anything you like

Written autumn 2011

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