Parking Lots

I saw a heart shaped oil stain last night
While walking home on Pike and Broadway
Like a loving queen perched
On her asphalt throne.

She ruled the corner firmly
Like a mother to her child,
Like a lover to a daydream
Or as magic tricks will rule a smile.

She hid beneath a taxi as her
Neighbors screamed and fought.
The Shell station was her kingdom.
Her castle was the parking lot.

She wondered if one day
She'd find a king to keep the drunks at bay,
A gentle oil puddle
That would never wash away.

She was born from an old engine
That had never really been maintained,
A broken home beneath a hood
That leaked each time it rained.

She hadn't met her parents,
But she heard that they resided
An a sidewalk by a Texaco
On eastern Staten Island.

They never lived to learn
That their daughter had become royalty.
A hard working employee
Scrubbed their bodies to the street.