Diminishing

our cars are both looking
quite rusty. it’s not age,
they’re just dirty, though it
seems much the same
in the heat of this early dry
june. I say to the woman
with whom I share desks
that we shouldn't park out there
right next to the building
yard entrance. rocks fly
each morning in the paths
of the lorries, and land
on our bonnets like birds
flapping up from the south.
we are working, the sun
sets behind a grey rank
of parked earth movers. where else
can we park, she says
reasonably, quietly. I nod.
we diminish. night falls
like a rock.