Alone in the middle of a parking spot,
some jerk placed you there to save the vacancy.
Stolen away from your companions that blocked off
the accident on the side of the highway
that dark and rainy evening
when a mother speeding to see her son's recital
lost control of the wheel and skid into the barrier.
Now you're alone
no other orange cones
no cars around for that matter
what makes the place you stand so important?
Perhaps you're a symbolic X
that's hiding something beneath it
like treasure
or an indian burial ground
or perhaps a rock collection.
Whatever your purpose here
you're calling attention to yourself,
just like the teary-eyed boy playing the trombone solo.
Word.
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