A Metered Approach

I ran down towards the parking meter
A man dressed like me, only far neater.
I saw his smile.
The curl of his mouth, serpentile.

Bending over my old red Rover,
Metro.
As the turning red disk rotated upward
Click!
Slap!
A sticky back, to a plastic wallet
Stuck on the glass just above my car bonnet.

Crimson, scarlet!
Temper blasting like a can of cola,
Dropped from a third storey window over,
A long residing paving slab,
sprayed with liquid.

How could I have been so stupid‽
Softening to a seeping ooze,
Having burned out my fuse.
In silence but for the ticking step.

On time, in time where I was out.
The ward of meters exacting,
A fitting penalty, extracting.
In time.                      
In time.

I drove away.
Not in time.