IN THE PARK

 by

Timothy Herrick

copyright 1992, held by author

 

In the park

we talked about

our love. For

you it was over;

for me, obligation

is an untreatable tumor.

 

We ate fruit

and drank iced tea.

You spat out

a piece of cantaloupe.

 

It landed on the grass

and was encrusted

by red ants

within an hour.

 

After you left,

I sat on the bench

and watched, brushing

away tears so slight

anyone else would think

only dust was in my eyes.

 

A drizzle started.

Out of the horizon

and into your pocket

you take the sunshine

from the day

but never look

at the light

yourself.

 

The park had a gazebo

and a statue of

a general from

a victorious war.

The children,

the elderly,

the dog walkers

departed.

 

Just me and the rain.

Some ants drowned.

Some escaped.