Asphalt Apocalypse

By: Michele Walsky

Aghast, no space in sight!

“BBQ fair,” my carpool squealed in delight

“Cone,” I groaned, circling in plight

Diagonal, sideways, angled, no use

Every spot was taken, it was becoming obtuse

Forget it, I’d say if it wasn’t for class

Good gravy, so jammed, students parked on the grass!

“Hurry”, I prayed, following walkers afar

Instead, they tossed books and grabbed more from their car

Just as hope dipped, we spied a spot


Laughed the bike in its slot

“Motorcycles”, we cursed under our breath

Nuts and bolts were nearly left

“Open up!” we complained,

Parking’s a pain; planning early was all in vain

Questioned, a census would agree

Rogue timbered an orange teepee

Sorry, rules were there for the pickin’

Time was a tickin’

Unwilling to be late, too rushed to be chicken.

Vexed, complexed

What choice was at hand?

‘Xiled, banned to no man’s land?

Yugo, we need a miracle, in this

Zonking zoo of vehicles