Dogs rise for the bubbles,
two heavy girls hold hands,
lean backward and twirl.
A man in his early twenties stands
with hands on hips in a naked attitude,
but cotton drawstring shorts just
covering his groin.
A kerchiefed person approaches
selling bumper stickers that say:
Bong hits for Jesus.
A woman’s head is half bald and
The purple side fades into a yellow neon shag,
behind her, a girl with hair
the color of the sea
wears a furry backpack
in the shape of a pony.
Someone is spinning
a hula hoop around their knees while
puppies prance proudly with toys-on-a-rope.
A skinny person takes photos
and there is a bearded figure
with a black satin cape and a staff;
children roll down a grassy slope.
A large white moth
follows the uneven wind
into the shade.
Gulls bank and starlings swoop
just above unconcerned heads.
A circle is drumming
the afternoon away
and a shopping cart
piled high with blankets
and sleeping bags
saunters through the trees.
I am sprinkled in the grass,
forgotten in the sunburnt summer,
someone’s cannabis catches the breeze.
will find itself in the fireworks here;
this Sunday after
noon is given to the Frisbees.
Anything is good and no one
is left out of the centralized lawn,
nobody here cares, but everyone does.
The city sighs in Liberty Park,
tips its hat to the dream
caught in between the drum beats
will not pause
for how we all came to be here,
we just are.