Location

Midwest USA

©2019 by Carol Everett Adams

Two Church-compound Women in the Parking Lot

I understand why you're here.

I, too, once knew the thrill

of fleeing for a moment, freedom

blowing hair from my eyes,

long Texas summer sky

finally letting the dark blossom.

Abandoning evening chores,

children, dinner dishes,

prayers shelved for later,

windows down, picking up speed.

Pushing through wind

instead of being shoved by it.

 

Now you're parked together in the back seat,

husbands up front, doors open.

You've escaped the devil's music

in the frozen yogurt shop,

fled with plastic cups

to the sinless safety of your van.

 

I get it, but I must go in

for toppings and sprinkles.

I pile on the extras.

My purchase weighs a fortune

I can barely afford.

But I hand my own money

to the woman who runs the place.

 

I peek at you through the glass,

past the hours on the door,

past a neon sign about to flash Closing.

Your eyes look an invitation at me.

 

But you know full well I can't go back.

Because you tasted the world, stepped over the line

for treats that someone else stirred.

You followed your men to the sidewalk

 

glanced behind as the shop door shut

and the welcome bell rang its goodbye,

proprietor said come back.

 

What else is in there, you're wondering,

licking your spoons clean,

enclosed in the back seat.

 

Get out and come in.

Get out and come in.

Get out and come in.

 

 

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