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That Parking Lot By: Yujin '20


That Parking Lot


The cold concrete ground,

polka dotted with the spat out gum


waiting for a familiar chirp

where the blue tire swing would twirl

beside that cut down tree

with the early cherry blossoms


The rumble and beeping

The screeching brakes


If I could’ve known to visit

one last time before

the yellow caution tape

decorated the playground square


Painted metal containers

trapped inside white barriers


laughter filled everyone

with sand underneath her fingernails

waiting in line for that metal slide

too hot to touch


before the children were warned


to stay away

from the swings,

from the slides,

from the seesaw,

from the playground

because of that new parking lot


By: Yujin '20


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