The Parking Lot

The words don’t come easily for me

When I write about you.

You’re this patch of sunlight

On a cold, wet day.

I’m thinking,

“Thank you”

As I drive away.

“Thank you

for not trying

to kiss me.”

I know you probably didn’t even want to

Kiss me.

I’m just glad you didn’t give it a shot

Because I want to know that I’m more

Than a shot in the dark,

A clay pigeon in the sky

For lonely hearts to aim at.

The words aren’t coming very easily,

But I need to say

“Thank you”

In more ways than I can count

Or tally or remember.

I didn’t understand

Real friendship

Until you drove past sleeping houses

And under flickering streetlamps

On a cold night in January

Because you knew

A long drive was exactly what I needed.

I need to say,

“Thank you”

For being someone

I can believe in.

“Thank you”

For loving me

Beyond bad days

And sarcastic comments.

“Thank you”

For seeing me

Instead of just


“Thank you”

For understanding

And not just listening.

You’re this patch of sunlight

On a cold, wet day.

The words aren’t coming easily,

But with you, sometimes

The words just aren’t enough.


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