By Art Dog
Date: 21 November 1999

In the park

Sitting on that same cold park bench- though this time alone- with my elbows on my knees.  The shadows of grass dance on my leather shoe, and one pant legs' dented pleat wavers in the waning indian summer's breeze.  Memories of springtime- goosebumps and smiles- flash in and out of my minds eye then stall up against the framed vision of a tear drop's splash and bead on her pale caramel skin.  A snag in my vision's periphery lifts my eyes to the creek. An empty plastic bread bag weaves fluidly past the craned neck on an expecting-to-be-fed duck, careens around little surface-jutting rocks downstream, then disappears around the bend.