Where We Made Out

At the intersection of life

At the intersection of Gary and 4th

Facing North

Sits a building upraised on a hill.

It is a wedding chapel now, though now, it’s closed.

Boarded up.

In those days when I borrowed my parents’ car — Buick, Gran Torino —

We used to drive there, you and I: Pam, Vicky, or Kathy.

On those car rides “back home,” you’d ask:

“Just here,” I’d say.

In those days, this place had a circled driveway behind it.

A good place to park.

In those days, this place was the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

I heard of it through older, more experienced parkers.

We made out well on those fall and winter nights, alone.

No one ever came . . . to disturb us.

At the intersection of Gary and 4th, in later days,

I’d sit and wait for the traffic to pass.

I’d look at the boards, the windows, the closed and locked gate.

Then, I’d turn right, toward my mother’s house.

But she’s passed, too, now.

Another intersection I came to.

Another boarded place I’ll never park again.

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