Uncoupled

The parking lot is turning black with rain,

and I’ve got nothing but a cold, wet stain.

I yanked the tab and heard a tiny sound,

a piece of silver falling to the ground.

Ten years of keeping out the winter bite,

now the teeth are chewed and won't hold tight.

The nylon tape is frayed and turning gray,

it’s finally decided to give away.

I’m walking with one side flapping wide,

with nowhere left for a man to hide.