Kyra Spence
Wynn-Dixie
We pulled off 95 south in the hot night drizzle
to sleep in a Wynn-Dixie parking lot
before driving again
to sleep in a Wynn-Dixie parking lot
before driving again
there was one other car across the lot
rusted and still, as if it would never drive again
the highway foamed where we left it,
drivers kept spiriting themselves
down the warped corridor
drivers kept spiriting themselves
down the warped corridor
at three I was barely sleeping, the heat,
the fizzing lights of the Wynn-Dixie
spread through the wet air
the fizzing lights of the Wynn-Dixie
spread through the wet air
at four I woke to a voice,
a humming engine, a door slammed,
—do you need anything? it asked
a humming engine, a door slammed,
—do you need anything? it asked
I woke again to more voices,
doors, and engines—car after car
streaming into the lot,
they parked, got out—
adults, children, families
calling to each other
doors, and engines—car after car
streaming into the lot,
they parked, got out—
adults, children, families
calling to each other
across the deep lot they blurred
in the heat
in the heat
—does anyone need anything?
I heard, again
I heard, again
I woke to the light changed by day,
the rain steady, the lines around
the parking space, the lot empty
except the rusted car—
the parking space, the lot empty
except the rusted car—
morning, I thought, need me
Kyra Spence‘s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cola Literary Magazine, Parentheses, Lammergeier, Mantis, Bennington Review, DIAGRAM, and elsewhere. She holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and teaches creative writing at the University of Iowa.
