The Haunted Mini-Mall, No. 5

Not even the parking lot escaped. Brown leaves blew around in it until they turned to dust and attained the minimal freedom to blow onto empty windows and cling there forever. The outlines of parking spaces have grown faint and cracked. Mute markers for cars that will never park in them. Their fading geometry, their orderly decay. The curbs collapsed inward, sucked into the frozen asphalt maelstrom, uncrossed, unparked-in, uninhabitable, silent, at-rest parking lot. Rain slides off slick stains, all that's left of cars long gone, dead cars towed away.
The Haunted Mini-Mall, No. 5
by Ginger Mayerson
Collage on paper
10"h x"7w
Contact Ginger Mayerson about this collage, also see The Haunted Mini-Mall pamphlet. Poem originally published in The Coe Review, Issue 37, No. 1.