Drum Circle in Liberty Park

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,

wearing nothing

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

and seesaws

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.

Tomorrow evening

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.

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