The Park

Across the park was a place
I was told that I could go,
Where people read from the work
They had made with the words
That had come to them.

Hard ice, dirty ice,
There on the transverse,
The cars staying with the route
That had been set out for them.,

White lights,
Then the red lights, sexy,
A trail of mockery in their wake.
All my life afraid of that park

Where I could only play in the safety
Of the light,
Forgetting for the moment
My vandal’s touch,

Snowballs lobbed at the heads
Of the lamps,
Bringing on the darkness
I knew to fear.

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