The One With Ducks

i am in a parking lot in winter park, orlando, florida.
it is dark, damp and gold-orange glinting.

tall streetlights trail long candlelight colored streaks
across the warm, fresh black pavement.

puddles split-fork and hoop the shifting stripes
around their inky, unforgiving voidholes as you walk.
the water is shallow but powerful.

the air is stuffy in my lungs
but it is expansive in the humid nighttime dark
that extends around me.

i stand on my sore feet and imagine the other places i could be.
my mind circles back to the place where i can’t be.

i see ducks in the parking lot
it is a shopping center parking lot.

two groceries and a pharmacy and a paper store.
a liquor store, a few restaurants.
some other something like a craft store.

i stand toe-to-edge with a puddle;
the ducks waddle just up to my feet.

unbothered by the snicking-cachicking of my cell phone camera.
dark, blurry, glinting, candlepavement photos.