how lonely the meter
maid is
in her small truck like
car, an upright box
painted white and blue
with flashing lights.
not quite the police
not quite in charge
of anything, but this,
her yellow pad and pen,
writing tickets
and sticking them under
the wipers of cars
who have stayed too long
again. how strong she
must be to be disliked,
and yelled at,
abused by those who
don't understand her
job, they don't know
that she really is a nice
person beneath the badge
the blue shirt
and black hat.
she's sorry to be writing
you a ticket. deep inside
she's sorry despite ignoring
your pleas for forgiveness.
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