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Parking Lot Wishes -- poetry by Arran Kennedy Orive

I think back to that night a lot.

The breeze was cold.

It’s always cold.

We were happier then,


exhausted from running and laughing

because words would be less true.

Just her and I,

in the parking lot,

laughing.


I think back to that night a lot.

I was talking with someone I barely knew,

but it was ok because she was also there.

She laughed, I listened.

I laughed, she smiled.

Suddenly, the breeze wasn’t so cold anymore.


I think back to that night a lot.

When there was a time when stress

and fear

and anguish

were far away.


I think back to that night more and more now.

When we were driving back to my house,

and all I could do was listen to her.


I wish I had never stepped out of that car.

I wish I had told her then.

I wish that the night had happened

the way I wished it did.

But it was just me and someone I barely knew,

sitting on the curb,

waiting for her to finish talking to Him.

He who I was not.

He who I wish I was.


I don’t like thinking back to that night.

I wish I could forget, but every time she speaks,

or laughs,

or smiles,

or listens,

I go back there, and I wish it were different.


The He who she sits in the car with has changed,

as has the someone on the curb.

But I haven’t, and she hasn’t.

She’s still laughing and smiling

in the car with Him.

I’m still on the curb

with someone I still don’t know.


I wish I could stop thinking about it.

I’ve thought too much about it.

I’ve written too much about it, as well.

I wish I could stop writing–


 

Arran Kennedy Orive is a high school senior from northeastern Kansas. As of right now, he's probably making bird noises or writing melancholic stories while stressing about his future as a theatre/acting major in college next year.

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