Almost nothing else
angers me like a parking ticket.
Stopped for coffee with a friend
and in that hour or less
some gutless park patrol person
swings by and slaps the ticket
in the windshield under the wiper.
I’m mad. It makes for a very expensive
cup of coffee, perhaps the most
expensive cup of coffee I’ve ever had.
And I’m angry for a variety of other reasons.
I’m angry at myself for not taking
the time to look at the signage.
I’m angry at the city for painting
those little white parking space
markers on the concrete of an
illegal spot. And I’m angry at
that patrol guy, who could have
(even though I know he never would have)
popped his head inside the shop
to say, hey, I’m about to ticket
this Honda Fit. You might wanna move it.
Bastard. Son of a bitch, I mutter
as I get back into my car, while farther down
the block, someone is honking in
some unrelated moment of rage
and I know that I am not alone.
michael jarmer 