Bart Wilcox
I Lost My Car in San Francisco
Oil on canvas, 24″ x 36″

One night my beloved second home
beat me nearly to death with
freezing rain, while I trudged back
from the only parking spot I could find
after an hour, a mile away, dinner finished
without me, the concert a bust, and losing
my pin on the location of the car, while
my injured friend, the native who knew his
way, waited as I roamed in the black night
punching the key fob as if to turn off
the rain. Another hour in the icy fog,
taken down by a cleft in the broken sidewalk,
my phone skittering away in the dark,
I stayed down, on my knees, why hast thou
forsaken me, and thought, I’ll just lie here
until someone helps me, not a good plan
for an old man lying on the streets of
San Francisco. With one last desperate squeeze,
I pressed, and heard the welcome chirp
from the car next to me on the curb that said,
“Don’t blame this on me.”