In my parking lot

It wasn't in the quiet

in the field

perhaps in the parking lot

when the windshield misted

and the music

bottle of wine 

and the rolling

sounds 

No! It was in the quiet
inquisitive
speed and delight
in that space
reserved and shared
reminded by faded shadows on misting windshields
in the parking lot
in my mind

in a while once

a wave crashes through
and washes

the dust off a memory

causes a smile

fresh in that instant revisited 

There was no field

it wasn't quiet

the silence was generated

the windshield misted


In a  place

where memories come

to fade

in the parking lot of

my mind