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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,


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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