Each morning I walk to school and pass by the community park. It's a short-cut that allows me to avoid this creepy guy at the hardware store, who makes it a point to come up at me at a very uncomfortable distance.
Recent projects have beautified this community park. The last time I passed, a large, new playground had been installed among the trees.
I've taken some time writing down the things I see and think while passing.
Scenes at the Community Park
1. A woman sat at the top of the slide. It was early morning, the sun hurt. She sat bare-foot, wrote in her notebook. What it was about, no one knew. She was at her high place, though eventually no one knew, she would have to slide away.
2. He swung over the deep puddle. The boy intones happily, words understandable only to him. A roaring truck sweeps by sending ripples over the water.
3. Grass cutters, their faces hidden, sat under the shade of palm trees and young acacia. The air fresh with a thousand decapitated saplings. The electric scythes lie on top of their crushed bodies on the small fields.
4. This path winds down, a möbius strip around swings and slides. Love pushes through one gate out of another. I look for you at the near-by bench, knowing you wouldn’t be there. Instead, there’s a crazy man and a cat.
5. A child with penny marks on his legs run, pulling a kite up-behind him. A dog follows. Behind the bushes, older children’s exhibitions. It’s nearly winter but still hot. And my feet seems to want to walk itself bare, the boots being a little too tight.