The art of parallel parking: a poem

The art of parallel parking

Parallel parking is an art,
Not a science.
Unlike everything else,
I can't do it exceptionally well.
Attempting it certainly feels like hell.

My poor depth perception does not serve me well.
More than two feet from the curb,
As the other cars swerve,
To avoid hitting me.
I see a fender bender
In my future.
The art,
That is to parallel park,
Is no calling of mine.

By Heather D.

Inspiration for this poem was drawn from the frustration that is parallel parking, as well as two stanzas of Sylvia Plath's poem "Lady Lazarus."  The two stanzas appear below:

Dying

Is an art, like everything else,

I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.

I do it so it feels real.

I guess you could say I've a call.