The Same MiniVan Stealing My Parking Spot

It doesn't say my name,

but the parking spot is mine.

I hear stupid stories from boys

who are bad whisperers.

I wait at the red light to feel a flaw in my orange and yellow

slinky.

I see a whole flower in the

hallway from a

lost lover.

Throughout the rest of my day

I notice a tattoo that draws me in.

I notice a lot of glances from

a crush, in a small amount

of time.

The parking space doesn't say

my name on it.

So maybe the parking spot isn't mine.