STITCH-VAULT
Here's the darkness again, wheedling its way
in. Someone else is talking about joy, and their
spotted dog loving the snow. The Chinese lady
once more circles in her endless walk around this
park : how can she, over and again, I ask.
-
Twenty mad-man kids sled their souls down a slick
hillside screaming. The fathers await the mothers who
await the end of the afternoon. Someone is grimacing
through his open, bloodied mouth : another 10 year old
who got too close to the face of the sled he was riding.
-
If I was a storybook writer, I'd be writing away : as it is,
I look at this scene as a flier would the ground, a helicopter
skimming treetops of sound. Children laugh, and then
they cry. Others keep silent - still others roll over and
just do it again. Parked cars await their rides to supper.
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