A Bench In the Park, June 3rd, 1993
My mother, Gloria, and I were walking down
The street one evening and she commented about
How the moon looked like a giant face.
I asked her if she wanted to continue the discussion,
And she said yes. “What
kind of face does it look
Like?” I asked her and
she pretty much said
A cookie.
I started to get hungry after that, but we had a long
Way to go and I was on a diet.
We strolled until we came to the park. It was
Almost 8pm but we were enjoying the scenery
And the Coca-Colas we were drinking. It wasn’t
Even a long way back home, just three blocks.
I saw a bat flying above me and my mother jumped
And screamed, and I laughed.
She didn’t like it.
“Why don’t we sit on the bench over there?” I suggested,
Pointing to it. She agreed. We walked over to the bench
And sat down. It was a
pretty little picture and I was so
Happy I thought I wanted to stay here forever.
Then a drunk man strolled by, smelling of cheap
Cigars.
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