A Forgotten Park

Two packs on my lap

Rest empty and half full.

Two hundred dollars

Just for an inspection.


The birch is dead

And I am saw-less.

She walks over

The overgrown asphalt.


Noses are in the air

And I like to think

It’s for the sake

Of smelling spring.


The price paid for

Education is equivalent

To the cost of a

Mechanic’s labor.


I know that you don’t.


At least the birds sing

As loudly as the cars

Busily bustling by.

The crows chuckle.


A ticket giver paroles

Street sides and dogs

Walk the people while

We gaze at our phones.


Perhaps cats read the

Ethereal brail of

Our words and feelings

Lost to conversation.


The coffee is cold,

But my heart is warm.

This strange mystery

Is really quite delightful.

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