Poem: On-Street Parking
Written June 1, 2017
Sometimes I wake long before you.
Watch you sleep.
Sneak pizza from the fridge.
Play solitaire on my phone
until the alarm goes off
for you to go feed the meter –
a clock radio
that blurts out a buzzing noise.
It is because of the on-street parking.
Every two hours it’s the same thing.
Afterwards you bring coffee
from a shop that becomes my favourite
for that reason.
The alarm goes off for good.
You pick your jeans up off the floor
to dig for coins in the pockets
before you pull them on and are out the door.
by Wendy Stewart