Parking Lot Talks

Engine running, radio low,

Streetlights blur against the snow,

You say, “Well, I should probably go,”

Then neither of us move.

Your hand rests halfway to the keys,

Like leaving comes reluctantly,

Funny how the hardest things

Are the smallest things to do.

⸻

The clock keeps glowing on the dash,

Like it’s judging us for making moments last.

⸻

These parking lot talks go on for hours,

Turning silence into something louder,

Every almost-goodbye hanging in the dark.

You laugh, then look away again,

Like there’s things we don’t know how to say yet,

So we stay suspended where we are,

In these parking lot talks.

⸻

Condensation on the glass,

Little circles where your fingers passed,

You tell stories too quietly

Like they’re secrets meant for me.

The world keeps moving somewhere else,

Traffic lights and midnight bells,

But inside this old car

Time forgets itself.

⸻

I think we both know what this is,

But naming it might ruin it.

⸻

These parking lot talks go on for hours,

Turning silence into something louder,

Every almost-goodbye hanging in the dark.

You laugh, then look away again,

Like there’s things we don’t know how to say yet,

So we stay suspended where we are,

In these parking lot talks.

⸻

Someday this’ll just be memory,

Tail lights fading into history,

But tonight the world feels small enough

To fit inside your passenger seat.

⸻

You finally reach for the door,

Then stop halfway like before…

⸻

These parking lot talks feel infinite,

Like if we stay here we won’t lose this,

Like morning can’t touch us where we are.

Your shadow disappears at last,

I watch your porch light through the glass,

Then drive home with your voice still in my car…

From those parking lot talks.