Afterhours, the church is a derelict corpse
laying rotten and corroded like some destitute
Abandoned on the periphery
fields and shut-in neighborhoods keep it company
as crows pick over bones of brick and stone
just before dusk it’s a different story.
the parking lot becomes a refuge for the damned
outcasts, the trapped and born again misfits
looking for a place for their pleasure crimes
like small oasis of immorality
and little deserts of debauchery
where you can be right on the wrong side of the tracks
they park their vehicles on the outskirts
shrewdly, not to draw to much attention
from strollers and short-cut hackers
sauntering by with their pedestrian cameos
sometimes it’s a lone vehicle
muddy stubble strapped front hoods
and disheveled windscreens
with little wears and tears to toast the crooked years
be it Sports cars, sedans, or white Silverado’s
some cars are just made for mischief
like some menageries in a zoo
each occasion is its own beast
of miscellaneous entries, different species of sin
but the patterns are all the same
but when you see a black Lexus cruising
you should just walk the other way
sometimes its a troop of feral teenagers
huddled together behind smoky stained windows
that cough up vapors, of petrichor flavors
they sit their pickled to preserve the ambience
unaware that it’s a one way passage
from post childhood innocents
into adolescent bitterness
each red beam flickers, like a dying dream of stars
for the sweet smell of adulthood
leaves an after taste of ash
Other times, its more corporeal liaisons
two cars parked by, with shaded disposition
engines revved, in the front seat of action
plotting with lovers who aren’t in their photos
they sit together drunk on indiscretions
either charting trips to motels
or date night through the back door
taunting each other with their carnal performance
but lust is just a cheap date
and no one wants to pay the cheque
And sometimes where cops go to hustle
where they file reports or gossip of the grid
maybe rendezvous with a snitch
just like some scene from a gangster flick
When there’s a shakedown for intel
and Mr. seedy exposition
explains the anatomy of drug networks and the gang
and they can exhale with moral resolution
deep undercover in the middle of nowhere
It’s a perfect home to hide from laws
Somethings always happening in Church Parking lots
Where entrepreneurs climb out from the sewers
And men teach boys the tricks of growing ups
And ladies of the street get to take a seat
It’s a place of intrigues, disease
And good old human greed
It’s a cultured cell of filth
Full of human needs
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