City Park’s 

Grass 

Acclimates to foot-traffic, 

Folds

Like two parallels, never to meet. 

Trophy fabric 

Succumbs to the wind

And smacks its clamp

Against the metal flag-pole. 

Clouds become

Objects

Familiar to imperial culture. 

“I see a bear!”

“I see a bull!” 

Inside a shadow.

Is it human? 

Light pollution 

Mired in smoke plumes 

Curls before 

Cell-phones 

Held like relics 

Capturing 

Purple arches. 

Purple God. 

Square jawlines frame 

Plastic symmetry 

And

Offset

The tragi-comedy,

Situating prophetic 

Graffiti 

Along the park fountain’s

Base,

Or snorting H 

Off a library book 

To mimic  

The tax-gap. 

“Wealth is in the numbers.”