Living In The Parking Lot

Under the green, well packaged oak a family of four walk through. Unnoticed am I, by most, except by they whom check late at night too make sure that I still am. Lighting a Cigarette) French being humid this summer it is Florida( She stops, they walking on in bright yellow ajusting one snug cup, of life, forever it briefly shows. Pushing the stroller, pausing the father spits. Tow headed the girl, head bobbing lost in the heat. The boy sweaty and healthy, pants held up by one hand, energy drink in the other. Fading in and out of sight, she briefly draws out preproportioned it is more or less as the other. Not seeing her face, is her sister. Living in a parking lot, I watch the sea of life drift by.