Back Alley Exit

I sat in the darkness
near the back alley exit
of a Baskin Robbins ice cream shop
in the Robert E Lee mall
of New Orleans.

Nearby a dumpster overflowing
with empty cartons and rotted vegetables
from the Robert Market
attracting rats and shore birds
from the lake.

This wasn't going into the essay
of how I spent my summer vacation.
I pretended to be invisible
least someone spot me
before Monica came with my
spare car keys.

In the 10 minutes it took her
to get from Redfish Drive
to the parking lot behind the
shop, I had too much time
to regret anger
and driving away to think,
too much time to imagine
footsteps, night people, bums
coming to attack me...

"Monica I love you, come get me,
I locked my keys in the car."
"Monica, I am sorry."
How much longer?
What was that?
"Where are you?"
"Near the back alley exit.
Do you hate me?"
"It will take more
than you being stupid today."