i.

yellow lines of parallel and perpendicular and parallel and skew
compressed hard against the crusted asphalt
scarcely reflecting the flickering lights that embody the false vignette of a frigid parking lot
the ringing in my ears,
conceivably from the fluorescent lamps
before my muted radio,
accompany me as I stare to the null-void out my caked shield
that separates seventy from thirty
maroon, myrtle, yellow
trimmed abode vending java and biscuits
to specter passersby
my rear-view mirror frames a half lit store sign,
A to  Par s presumably Auto Parts,
casting red films in the store windows
and leaving a ghostly resonance
against two suvs that reside seven parking spaces apart
and one drives away leaving the other to face the sliding doors of a desolate marketplace

ii.

cliched white sands meet fresh pacific water and embrace each other
tenants rudely stare while allocating empty sun-block bottles and sand encrusted picnics
disregarding their rightful privacy
broods enjoy themselves in our beleaguered couple's ruffle
in return they are tossed right side down to stifle
torpent in the salty realm of a mighty sergeant

iii.

shipyards, graveyards,
colossal slaves that heave and sigh
and surge disease into the depth
and colossal beings
that surge tonnage into our slaves
and make the heavens drip acerbic knives into the sea

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what?

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I'm sorry if it's not a cliched love poem like everything else here