Waiting in the car
Parked on
brown winter grass outside a race track stadium,
like thousands of others,
Guided into
rows by parking attendants.
An old Honda
beside a new Prius, Lexus, and Lincoln.
Engines off
and silent.
Raceway. Vaccine written on the Gate 4 Marquee.
Lot D2. 4 Coca Cola signs, bottle shaped,
Each one the
side of a box wrapped around a light pole.
Burnt orange
roofs on stadium stairs.
Ticket signs
and advertisements.
When it was
a State Fairground,
Exhibition
buildings with cows, sheep, and pigs,
groomed for competition, covered the fields.
Smaller buildings
were lined with home-canned foods
and home-sewn quilts.
Blue, red, or
white ribbons were coveted and displayed.
Transcending
all were the ferris wheels,
carousels, and bumper cars,
Tents filled
with carnival games and shouting barkers,
cotton candy, and corn dogs,
Reflections distorted
everything in the House of Mirrors,
While musicians
filled open-air stages with music.
Long awaited
fall days spent walking
From tent to
tent,
From
building to building,
Dusty feet
and eyes barely blinking
until seated back in the car with eyes closed
Head and shoulder
leaning against the car window
For the long
trip back home to cow barns and silos.
Until a
parking attendant used arm and hand signals
To move a parked
row into a long, slow-moving queue
Towards a
makeshift vaccine dispensary.
© cmheuer, 2021
