The girl with the blue hair
the color of the rhododendrons in my old Oregon
neighborhood gets off at the stop
right before the corner lot where the guy
parked his truck when he didn’t want to pay
for closer parking
The squat building that I barely noticed then
I now recognize as a windowed dumpster
filled with sagging poster ads and
haphazard haystacks of PVC pipes
skirted by concrete and asphalt
the bed for parking spaces marked by phantom lines
price tags for opportunity
A slim steel box stands sentry near the street
to be fed by folded dollar bills crammed
into its multi-slotted mouth
I recall the guy’s chagrin and our
skinflint’s hike down the scorched but shaded
sidewalks to the ballpark
where even the cheap seats cost too much
My bus glides by here every day now and I
am thankful that I wasn’t worth the price
of tickets or convenient parking
Flannery O’Conner with a western flair. You take us there Bri.
Hey, Rick. That’s rather generous, but I’ll take it! Love to you and Linda.