Friday, October 11, 2013

The Park in August



A gaggle of young men in sequins and wigs
stand in a circle and bump fists 
then scream “capture the fag!” and scatter
whooping and screaming across the field.

In the middle of the pond, a duck quacks madly
as she is attacked by a half dozen mallards
who nip her neck to hang on 
as they mount her floating form from behind.

The skunky stench of weed besmirches the air.
Girls sunbathe on the blankets, chest down,
bikini tops unstrung. Dogs strain at leashes. 
The trash cans overflow with bottles and cans. 
From among the trees, the sound of a hidden drum,
the mindless, hollow, hungry, thump of Summer.

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