A Parking Lot

Climbing

Windng

Hills and steps

Tired

Relieved

Woeful

Of Tasks

Thay lay ahead

A crisp and cold chill

Surrounds me

But I carry shields

Of sweaters and scarves

The lot holds

Endless rows

of an infinite

Amount of

Metal

Oil

Rubber

That has no end

Until owners

of autos

Flee with their

Corporate beasts

Escaping from

Concrete and painted

White lines

But only

To return

To scrap metal oceans

Of tomorrow

Reviews

[TLK]

The lines are too short for me to make anything of this.