The slot swallowed the quarters with a metallic thud

The slot swallowed the quarters with a metallic thud,

but the dial stayed stuck on the zero line.

It’s a small, rusted throat filled with city mud,

refusing to give back the time that was mine.

I stood there watching the red flag blink,

a mechanical heartbeat behind the thick glass.

It doesn't care what the drivers might think

as the minutes and the enforcement officers pass.

There is no handle to crank, no gear left to turn,

just the word EXPIRED in a flat, sun-bleached ink.

It’s a lesson that takes a lifetime to learn—

how much you can lose in a single, hard blink.