The Poetry of Paul E Sexton3
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Poetry 2003

Parking Lot Existentialism

Under waffle iron sky
cumulous and cotton like,
draped in slips of light
the baby's eyes were wild
and a murder of black birds
possibly crows
paraded about
on large square cement stage,
"pad sites available".

and it's all about the baby
and his face
and the new truck
and the new house
and being able to see the stars
so much more clearly
outside of the city,

Funny,
but when staring down
36
under
the sky in blue-gray
passing for a cold day in Texas,
it blinks for a moment,

I realize
that It's all my imagination
the jobs
the marriage
the memories of childhood
the ideas about life
the poets and the poems
the truck and the house
and even the baby himself.

Nothing is real
and the crows are laughing
at my folly
as I laugh
at theirs.

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<span class="this-text"><u>Parking Lot Existentialism</u>
<br><i>by Paul Sexton</i></span>
<p>
<pre><span class="this-text">Under waffle iron sky
cumulous and cotton like,
draped in slips of light
the baby's eyes were wild
and a murder of black birds
possibly crows
paraded about
on large square cement stage,
"pad sites available".

and it's all about the baby
and his face
and the new truck
and the new house
and being able to see the stars
so much more clearly
outside of the city,

Funny,
but when staring down
36
under
the sky in blue-gray
passing for a cold day in Texas,
it blinks for a moment,

I realize
that It's all my imagination
the jobs
the marriage
the memories of childhood
the ideas about life
the poets and the poems
the truck and the house
and even the baby himself.

Nothing is real
and the crows are laughing
at my folly
as I laugh
at theirs.</span></pre>
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