Storage grates, a bit dark, like saying porridge is great.
Parking garage, lights on, no bedtime story, so the floor stays awake.
Slanted, taken for granted, Rumble in the Bronx, wondering where Jackie Chan-is.
Entrance granted to those who overcome the block of the lock, and won’t stop.
Battered wall, tattered slaw - someone hated their veggies on the way to the mall.
The world is one big parking garage - everyone’s seeking validation,
peeking cleavage maven, looking to get out of control, no more behave’n…