In the dark, I hear my history
I am standing in front of an empty CVS parking lot. Everyone else is either home or with someone they love or think they love. The air smells different here, but it’s not the stale buttered popcorn dumped in the overflowing trash can or the exhaust from the few stray cars with fifteen year-old engines.
It’s the feeling that I belong here, belong to the dark or
the possibility that Mama once stood here too, believing
someone would come by and save all of us from ourselves.
Erin Jamieson holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Miami University of Ohio. Her writing has been published in over fifty literary magazines. She teaches English Composition at the University of Cincinnati-Blue Ash College and also works as a freelance writer.
See more of Erin's work in 8.2