Beneath the Slick Surface

Rain finished its slow wash, the parking lot glistens,

a smear of oil darkens the water’s skin,

rainbows crumple like torn plastic at my feet.

I step in—slip, a slick shock under my boots,

black jelly pooling where yesterday’s grime sleeps.

Neon signs fracture on the oily glass,

broken colors bleed where the ground is broken.

The night breathes heavy with gasoline sighs,

a streetlamp flickers through rainbow scars,

there's something wrong in the shimmer,

something lost in the oil’s shallow pond.

I watch it ripple, knowing it will never clear—

the wet surface stained,

the silence slick and waiting.