My street is blocked off
and red lights flash
and bounce off of the shabby
houses of my neighbors.
I've been drinking and
singing at a karaoke bar
with my friend and am unsure
why I can't park on my street.
A police officer waves me by
with his flashlight, looks at
me like I'm stupid when I
ask what has happened.
His face quickly changes
when I tell him I live here.
"Which house?" he asks. "Third
one on the right," I reply.
"Park here," he says, and
escorts me to the scene where
people line the sidewalks
and three large fire trucks
are wrapping up their hoses
and finishing their jobs,
just as I start to realize
all that I have lost.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
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