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Scenes From a McDonald's Parking Lot

Before the road splits,

sending us down different paths

on our journeys home from work,

we meet in the parking lot of the McDonald's

that marks the end of the way we share.

Here, you have seen both straight through me

and right into my heart.

Here, you have seen the best and worst of me

come boldly to life.

* * *

You sit next to me in the idling car,

your fingers gripping the wheel

until they turn so many colors

they cease to resemble fingers.

You lean forward in the seat,

starring straight ahead,

then lean back, trying to find

a comfortable posture.

I watch your jaw clench,

that space in your cheek flinch,

and I wonder how badly

your words are going to hurt.

You open your mouth to speak,

but no sound emerges;

I can feel the shape of it

catching in your throat;

choking you with the pain

of already knowing you are wrong.

Finally, the words come out;

I draw them in like a bullet to my body.

You hang on harder to that life saving wheel,

waiting for my tears to come,

not knowing what you will do

when they arrive onto the scene.

You ask me to say something,

but I turn to the window,

as I always do, so you won't see me cry.

Again, you repeat your request,

you ask to hear my voice say it will all be okay.

But I open the door and step out;

there is not enough room in the car

for you and for me

and for the void your words have just carved.

* * *

I see you every day,

walking beside me at work,

down dusty trails along the river's edge;

we work in pasture and in the woods,

and I am like a stranger to you.

From time to time,

in the shade of an afternoon tree,

you forget yourself

and lay your hand on mine.

Or you say my name

a bit too much like honey,

dripping from your tongue,

and I have to run and hide.

I don't know how to breathe

in this vacuum of silence

you have created;

I see that you are unable

to live by your own imposed rules.

You are convicted to be lonely,

but you need no words to show me

you are no longer convinced of this desire.

We tear each other to pieces

with the wordless cries of our souls,

and the chains that have drawn us together

become almost visible

even as you struggle to set yourself free.

We did not choose this thing;

there are far greater powers at work.

* * *

The break in the road approaches

and my telephone rings,

your name appearing on the screen.

You ask if I'm all right.

I say no and ask you the same.

You say no and ask to see me

before we go our separate ways.

In the McDonald's parking lot,

I climb into the familiar safety

of your waiting car.

What are we, you ask;

why is this so hard?

I put my head on your shoulder

and let my silence tell you I still love you.

I make no mention of the tear

that rolls down your cheek

and soaks through my hair;

I only hold you tighter,

knowing I can never let you go.

The clouds are pink

in the light of early evening;

a technicolor sunset

muting the tones of your skin

where your hand rests upon mine.

I want nothing more than this,

than this moment,

when all I can hear

is the steady rise of your breath

and the distant sound

of the drive-thru voice-box

carried on a twilight breeze.

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e
Written by
ellen-elizabeth-farris
American
Published
Jun 14, 2010
Lines·Words
104·620
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