Deliverance: A Poem That's Mostly True

The first blessing

Of the new Jewish year:

Free parking,

With validation,

In a Cambridge Street garage.

 

Among the Mondrian* thatch—

Some spaces behind others,

Others perpendicular to those

Next to signs admonishing

“Do not block other cars"--

 

One spot,

Strangely short and narrow,

Tight against a cinder block wall 

Just beyond a yellow post

Marking a tight turn.

 

My parking skills

Would be sore tested.

But dared I pass it up?

My friend was already waiting

At the synagogue door . . .

 

So in smallest increments,

I tucked my Honda Civic in close—

And didn’t know how close

Until I exited my car

And looked at it from behind:

 

Between my car and the wall,

A space no wider than

An index finger,

A slender marker,

A slice of bread.

 

And wasn’t this just my way—

To maneuver myself

With pride and care 

Into a place that would

Prove too narrow?

 

Silent panic.

How would I get out

Without leaving

My car’s red paint

On the gray wall?

 

And then I slowed my breathing,

Calmed myself so I might hear

The soft, wise voice

Of inner counsel:

“Move your car now,

 

Or you’ll worry all service long

About how you’ll move it later.

And if someone blows a horn

While you’re doing it,

Don’t jump or tense.”

 

And so I moved it, slowly

Rocking forward and back,

Forward and back,

My ear fearing the muffled crunch

Of metal on concrete,

 

Which did not come.

And I was out of my bind

Without a scrape,

Amazed, grateful,

And certain I’d had help,

 

Which I kept having:

As I rounded a corner,

A Dodge ram pulled out

Of a space near the exit

That I backed into with ease. 

 

* Screen shot of a photo of Piet Mondrian's “Composition 8,” 1914, on this web site: Guggenheim Museum educational staff. (n.d.) Piet Mondrian. Guggenheim Museums and Foundation. https://www.guggenheim.org/teaching-materials/the-great-upheaval-modern-art-from-the-guggenheim-collection/piet-mondrian?gallery=upheaval_L4a