The Romantic Properties of Parking Lots

One day the last remaining poets
might gather in the last remaining spot
of forest land; and die there
–like elephants do–
in their last thoughts, they will wonder
how the next generation will manage
without poets to moistenbreakbeautifulmake all those
harsh life-bits and broken glass boulders on which
every living skin breaks if it’s lucky;
and one last time
they will contemplate what brought them there
and curse the day breeze gave way to air-conditioning
and sunlight to fluorescent dust
and they would think how all this wouldn’t have been a problem
for the last remaining poets
except that no one has ever written a fairy tale
set in a shopping mall
and no one ever writes poems
about the romantic properties of parking lots.

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