No Parking

the first time we left

the number one

the river was in flood

ripples danced under the sun

the whole valley sparkled

except a thin, concrete ribbon

straight as an arrow to the bridge

edged with sand bags and prayers

that it stay dry

we descend into the valley

right before we sink

beneath the waves and

thread between high sand walls

I see a small sign out in the water

a small rowboat is moored to it

though it reads NO PARKING

wise words for the cars

who would now be inundated

the river must have washed

the sign away after we left

for decades later, that whole plot

is one massive parking lot

dotted with box stores

shops, offices, restaurants

that, every few years,

are evacuated

as waves lap at the top

of ever-higher dikes

if only those wise words

had somehow survived

our city would be safe

our shopping would be safe

but then I think of the boat

parked right under NO PARKING

and I remember

we never read the signs

why can’t we ever read the signs?