Underground Parking Garages at Night

They feel like their own state of existence,
Their own unique kind of cavernous world,

Nothing much about any other kind
Coded in their cement and fluorescence.

They’re perfect places for storytellers
To use as stages for violent scenes,

For suspense, general ominousness,
Since that’s what they suggest, but the hollow,

Barren estrangement of being in one
Half-deserted is generally quiet

And nothing much happening, alien
As it is. Alien as it may be,

There’s something too familiar about it,
As you unlock your car in a cavern

And ponder how good humanity is
At executing half-forgotten dreams.