Afternoon in Central Park
The ugliest green I have
Ever seen,
Slopped onto this picnic table,
Covering HM + MA but not erasing
Their star crossed artifact of
LOVE —-
Age unknown—-picnic table
And HM + MA.
Hot-diggity-damn!
The BMOC of Central Park rambles
Across the green space on his
School bus yellow front loader,
Lifting puke green, faded red
And Go Cats! blue tables
Moving them further from
My observation perch.
He’s a
Hopped-Up-On-Life Cowboy
Sporting Coke-Bottle-Lens glasses,
Kicking up dust as he rambles
Assuredly over on his yellow steed
Relocating another table to the
Herd’s new pasture.
But, WHY?
Adoring throngs of admirers
Freeze in place leaving the playground
At a standstill as if they are frozen in time,
By a Mystic Power chanting their names.
With mouthes agape,
They watch and wait as he
Strides by subduing the yellow beast
As If It Weren’t Anything Whatsoever,
Not even a quiver of muscles is detectable
From the stoic cowboy.
And on their faces, without saying a word,
Each little boy and little girl
Wistfully share their dreams
Of becoming the next generation
Cowboys of Central Park
With their very own big rigs.
2 thoughts on "Afternoon in Central Park"
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Wonderfully realized! So creative descriptions. Somehow it’s not a typical Central Park poem. Also, it’s refreshing to get out of the hollers of Kentucky for a bit!
Very intriguing picture you painted! Not the typical Central Park!