28 May 2012

In the park, one sunny afternoon

The sun is shining and I am
(as usual)
Thinking of you
(mostly wondering why it is always you)
There is a hobo-looking-guy smoking a joint
(i quite like the smell)
I feel like I want to climb the rope-tower-thing
(we used to call it 'the rocket')
And feel like I am on top of the world
Or sit on a swing and swing as high as I can
Until my legs get tired
Or hop on the round-a-bout and ask the hobo
To push me round until I get dizzy
The sun is still shining
The hobo is still smoking his joint
I haven't done any of the things I felt like doing
(and I'm still thinking of you)


  1. You've got the tortured -- and talented -- artist part down. Can't wait to read the flourishing artist in you.

  2. Wonderful. Almost Bukowski good.


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