Guest Commentary: Poem profiles life in a La Jolla parking lot

I absolutely love living and working in our community of La Jolla.

That said, for almost five decades I’ve watched the activity in the Vons/Pavilions parking lot play out daily from my perch across the street.

I was inspired to archive what has been rhythmically witnessed throughout this astounding tenure. The results follow.

‘Pavilions Lot Blues’

Nobody’s welcome.The uninviting labyrinth sprawlsthe east/west quadrangle from Girard to Fay.Active anthill, choreographed by collision warning systems,music arranged by sonics of bumps and scrapes.Tires warble, security alarms pulsateblasting phonics of intermittent percussion.Everyone’s rushed. Everyone’s frustrated.

Nobody lingers.Formerly white lines, long ago stenciled by proudcrafters, currently caked and crusted;still gridded for Corollas, Minis and Civics.But Jeeps, those tank-like Tesla SUVsand scruffy flatbeds enteras though the eroded pavement is icedwith glass that could easilycrack if run over by a Specialized S-Works Aethos [bicycle] ridden by a skilled thoroughbred jockey.Everyone’s hurried. Everyone’s annoyed.

Nobody’s happy.Rue the encounter with a chatty neighbor, well-meaning friendor even beloved educator. Each reluctant participant onthis unsettled game board has an urgent, urgent mission to fleeto the next appointment, meeting, carpool pickup.Everyone’s hustling. Everyone’s irritated.

Nobody’s safe.Uncaptained, unmoored, faded shopping carts abandonedat hatchbacks gain speed, swivel, lilt and slidedown the grade, crashing into sedentary sedans, doomedobstacles, acting as targets, aborting further motion.Another dent, missing the railed stable wherethe polite ones nest like staples in a Swingline.Everyone’s anxious. Everyone’s exasperated.

Nobody’s attentive.From my mezzanine seat on the second floorof the windswept, hazelnut shingled buildingacross the street, I witness the ballet play outhour by hour, day by day, season by season.A curtain of five spindly, unengaged and ignoredexcuses for trees divides me fromthe dissonant pinball arcade onto whichtheir silent shadows sundial as the day grows older.Everyone’s cast. Everyone’s crucial.

Leslie Simon is a La Jolla resident.