That Immigrant

 I tried over and over

to park that large, new-to-me car.

I was half way in.

 Parking place was too narrow.

Didn’t want to scrape already parked truck.

Tried to move forward.

Tried to move back.



Young Latino man stopped.

Told me what to do.

Saw I couldn’t. 

Asked, “Want me to park it?”

I nodded. He did.

I said thanks. He grinned.

That immigrant…

He came, he saw, he conquered

my heart.


This entry was posted in poetry.

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