park

Black, tarred remnants on the grill
A lingering aroma of burnt hotdogs
In your neighborhood park

Not the small park with one jungle gym
But the big one with 6 of them
Scattered throughout several acres

And those rubber tables with the holes
Your fingers would get stuck in

Remember those small blisters you’d get
From monkeying across worn metallic bars

Jump over the dark, muddy puddle
With rotting oak leaves and wrappers

Someone tags you from behind
And you’re now “It”
Zigzag here, look over there!

Pick up a fuzzy dandelion
Small blow: lord’s work, well done
and that fleeting tinge of satisfaction

Thirsty?
Sorry, the park water fountain doesn’t work

Draw coins from your piggy bank
And treat yourself to a soft-serve cone
Shhhhh—don’t tell mommy

As the tune fades away into the distance
Gravity takes over that yolk in the sky
Your internal alarm rings, dings, pings

Pick up the blue Razor scooter
Join your posse to head back

Towards the white picket fences
Doing nothing to protect 2-story fortresses

But don’t fret!
You’ll be back tomorrow