car vultures

the man inside
the cage, a trailer
the shape of a rusted
egg slides back
the confessional
screen and says
i need to see your id
and a credit
card. your car,
towed deep into
the night
down a gravel road
sits there
unreachable behind
the chain link fence
and barbed wire.
the fault is all yours.
neglecting the sign
that said employees
only. there is nothing you
can do, but pay
the man
and go home.
he unlocks the fence
while eating
a sandwich. his
hair is thick and black
like a bird,
his nails are chewed
down to moon rims
and lined with grease,
there is no eye contact,
no thank you's,
no have a nice day.
you hear the snap
of the padlock to keep
the other cars in
as you drive away
towards the rest
of your life
and away from his.