My head bends down at the coffee-colored brick parking lot,
Dark moss finding its way through the many cracks ,
The cracks lead to a maroon Honda Civic,
Its right taillight held on by a massive quantity of duct tape,
Rust sits over the bumper,
There is a sticker that reads “I Went To Graceland”
With a picture of Elvis,
Over the car there is a brick building.
This brick is a faded red and there is ivy growing up it.
At the second story there is a window.
Looking out of this window is an old woman, perhaps about eighty-five.
Her chin is rested on her fist and her gold wedding ring is digging into

her cheek.
She has white, wispy hair and the lightest baby blue eyes I have ever seen.
Where the building touched the evening sky there was a light, white cloud,

Waiting to turn pink in the sunset.