The Frozen Tundra of an Asphalt Field

With January edging into February,

our winter weather has finally arrived, 

bringing below freezing winds that swept 

across the plains of area parking lots.

In the early morning dark,

people shuffled from their parked cars

into work, huddled and cringing 

from the blowing snow like so many

 shadowy proletariat, on their way to work

at one of the many cubicle farms

that make up our local employment scene.

Five Yellows, Maybe More

It seems that Mark Rothko, Ad Reinhardt, Josef Albers 

and Hans Hoffman had a bit of eternal time 

on their hands the other day and, for whatever reason, 

decided to collaborate in the painting 

of this wall, one of the stalls at the car wash 

near where I work.

Yellow with Gray Triangle

Cracks and spaulding developed in the curbing near where I work.

Workmen came out a month or so ago to make repairs,

They semi-carefully cut the damaged concrete curbing away

with diamond-tipped saw blades, then filled the

resulting gash with of mending concrete.

Here, against the older and new bits of yellow paint,

the triangle helps to create both a bit of tension

and attention for a bit of curbside art.

The repaired bit shown below was done

several years ago. The workmen either realized 

the triangle would make a stronger repair,

or that two cuts only made for

a quicker job, requiring less work. 

Yellow Triangle

At the south end of the driveway near work 

is a stark little building, a car wash.

Cement block with brick facing, it's a bit down at heel, 

just like the surrounding neighborhood,

but it's earning it's keep; there frequently are two 

or three cars being washed as I pass by in the morning,

with that same amount later when I leave.

This bay was empty when I walked through,

the morning light making a yellow wedge 

that attempted to brighten the dingy walls.

Delineations

After a thunderstorm, I went outside for a walk.

The rain had presented me with a drawing,

a subtle gray composition on the heaved sidewalk

where straight and scribbly intersected

to balance each other.

Everywhere I Looked ...

I love milk chocolate-covered grahams.

After swimming, I stopped in at the Starbucks on the Circle

to enjoy a couple of the little crackers with a chai latte.

As I was savoring the creamy goodness of both

the grahams and the drink, I looked across the Circle

to see the glass pyramid atop one building

was juxtaposed against the horizontal stripes of 

a neighboring structure.

The clear sky had been kind to both,

adding its special blue to the reflections

from the windows and the skylight.

Earlier, I'd spent a break at work walking

the perimeter of the parking lot.

While the bright colors covering the store front

was what had initially caught my eye,

I later realized that stripes have run rampant 

in this picture.  

Squatters

The Canada geese show up every spring, 

taking up residence on parking lots and on the tops 

of any available flat-roofed buildings.

We have plenty of both in Indy. I suspect the

black-topped parking lots may resemble

ponds to the geese, and there is standing rain

water on top of many buildings.

They are the twenty-first century incarnation

of the previous century's pigeons,

but they leave larger turds.

Much larger - think bench beagle

or cocker spaniel. Whew!

Sun Wash

For a long while, the colored walls of this car wash 

have attracted me. The place is worn, utilitarian, prosaic, 

faded, even downright ugly, but during the morning,

 the yellow paint gives the bays a golden aura.

I suppose it's an illustration of the saying,

"Like putting lipstick on a pig."

After getting off the bus, I had a few minutes to spare 

before work, so I stopped to take a few pictures.

Indy Workday, 7:45 a.m.

Earlier this week, the nascent workday took shape 

as people began to show up for their jobs. A wedge of purple-y blue 

brought the daylight, with the contrast emphasized by the glare 

of yellow streetlamps, staring incessantly on the traffic below.

As the traffic approached, one couple walked to their offices, 

and the fluorescent lighting began their own twinkle 

of sorts in the office windows above.

Dark Blue Shirt

What is this game we play, you and I?

Two people who like each other,

yet who are afraid ... of what?

Like a fogged window, 
where I wiped my hand to clear the view, 
I saw you and every one 

else blurred into the mist.

You watch the distant skyline,

wrapped in the cold wisp of fantasy

where love is constant, 
never changing, carrying no risks, 

where the promise of an errant breeze 

is proxy for the warmth 
of a loving touch.

I saw you in your dark blue shirt,

sleeves rolled above your wrists

and longed to feel the warmth 
of your hand on my own,
the scratchy growth of your beard

against my lips 
as I lean in to kiss your cheek.

I want to love you, to arouse you,

to hold you for my own, and to set you free

for the warmth of love in reality.

The Blush of Fall

A co-worker thoughtfully brought these pears to work.

Their colors are beautiful and inviting.

I love the way the yellow green blends into

the blushing pink on their sides.

I even kinda like the scratchy texture of their skins.

The aroma teases me,

making me want to bite them 

for their juicy flavor.

However, their creamy white flesh 

is too mealy for me;

I do not like pears.

While Dad Washed the Car ...

After I left work late Thursday afternoon, I saw these 

two boys outside the car wash. They were sitting 

in their car seats, waiting for their father to 

finish washing the family van, 

watching the parade of passing traffic and 

people as they went about their business.

And yes, the little boy on the right

mugged continually while his brother was

the more reserved of the two.

Flying

I see you and I can barely keep my feet upon the ground.

I want so much to fly, to turn and twist,

To soar and dip in the sunlit sky like a pink kite,

Fluttering, darting, my ribbon streamers trailing a dancing path

Until, at last, I descend, running a few light steps upon the ground,

Once again anonymous, unseen by you,

Oblivious to my joy.

For the One I Talk to at Night

I listen to the rain falling outside, tapping against my bedroom window

as I lie snuggled beneath my comforter, warm against the damp night air.

The cat is getting on with her life at the front of my apartment;

I can hear her leap from the couch into the window

to watch the night critters that pass outside.

Sometimes, she wakes me as she does battle with a passing

tomcat, yowling with offense and punching the window

with her paws, lethal, scarring blows. That is, they would be

if her battle had not had the window to act as her shield.

Turtle is asleep on the other side of the room,

sometimes scrunched into her shell, other times

sprawled on the mulch in her box.

I lie in the dark, listening to my little family,

and think of you, the way the silver in your hair

shines, a galaxy of stars against the night.

You make me laugh and brighten my day. 

I recall the sound of your voice as you greeted your crew.

Good morning, angels, I heard you say and smiled 

as I began my own work. Your little team happily 

did your bidding because you managed to make 

the work lighter for everyone.

I imagine our conversations, mundane as hell --

(There are responses here, but they sound like

 a bass version of Charlie Brown's teacher.)

Do you think my book is okay?

Does it make sense? Will anyone like it?

Does my hair look okay?

Do you think my blue dress fits well?

And so it goes, a liberated woman, comfortable

with being by myself, yet too insecure to seek the company

of the man I've wanted for so long.  As I drift off to sleep, I imagine 

what it would be like to lightly trace the furrows in his brow,

easing his own worries away, and to answer the question marks

I see in his blue eyes with kisses. 

Maybe tomorrow.

Waiting for the Moment to Pass ...

This Canada goose waited while its mate took a few moments 

to de-stress. They were standing in the drive at work,

surrounded by parked cars and people walking in and out 

of the building. The black surface of the parking lot

must resemble that of a lake, especially when it's been raining

and water streams over its surface. Why would the geese be

so attached to it otherwise? Even the flat roof of the building would

be more private, a veritable goose spa, compared to the busy lot.

The geese leave turds the size of cigarillos and have chased some 

employees, so goose wranglers have been called in to limit

their presence. Other than the turds, I don't much mind them;

 they're the closest things to office pets we have.

Different Faces

As I walked to the bus stop Tuesday morning, 

I looked up to see the Moon straight ahead.

While the Sun's light reflected off the Moon on the left, 

the Night still held sway on the right, and I felt as though 

I was walking the line between morning and evening.

Every step took me towards daylight, closer to work and to

the people I spend my days with. 

As much as I enjoy their company and the work,

it has been missing one component - my muse.

Without him, the room where I work has been just a box

of some color. Yesterday, a co-worker asked if I'd seen him.

I hadn't. "But he's here, just around the corner!"

I looked over my shoulder and my little world lightened

by ten shades, weight lifted from my back, and the air sang.

Spring has come to my heart.

Workday Scenes

A cloudy morning greeted me this past week when I left for work. 

Downtown, the lights in the buildings and on the streets provided 

whatever twinkle and flash was to be had, lending the only

color to the otherwise drab granite and limestone covered buildings.

The bus stop outside my workplace is near a Hispanic-owned auto 

repair business. Above, the proverbial "junk yard dog," 

who provides security. Accompanied by his mate, a black female 

pit bull who recently had puppies, the two are effective 

deterrents to would-be thieves.

When working during the winter, we generally stay inside all day. 

If lucky, we will be provided the gift of sunlight during 

our journeys home. This bit of glorious purple and orange 

led me home about a week ago, and was gone 

by the time I stepped into my front door.

I Wanna ... I Wanna ...

... I wanna car.

It's been a mantra for as long as I've been able to drive.

But why? With all of its associated expenses

I've never really had the money to support a car. 

Besides, all I really want it for is long trips, 

not the daily commute. These trips, though inconvenient and 

time-consumimg have actually been enriching,

allowing me to stay in contact with the world.

The bus was full of people going to work, 

coming from work, or going to classes.

Thursday morning, these two young women

were going over their homework assignments for

their nursing classes, while nearby a woman

with her two young children were on their

way to enroll in daycare. 

All of us, the driver and all of his passengers, are among the 99%,

trying to make our way through our day with honor, 

working to achieve dreams that just involve a roof over our heads

and food and clothes for the kids, and without whom the

other 1% could not survive.