I watch the people

in the park

(as my son plays) 

and my judgements

flow freely 

and quickly. 

I am aware

of my many faults, 

all of which, 

I carry in full view

into this public space….


I still judge these strangers

with invective…

as I’m sure 

they do me…

I’m not so sure. 


Tuesday in the park

Two homeless ladies hug,
in parting;
their city-park encampment
is being tossed.
This gesture of normality
surprises me,
though it shouldn’t.
I am sure their lives
are as filled with banality
as mine.
This is simply
Their faces carry the weight
of a life lived rough
and I feel sorry.
Not for them, though,
(this is just their Tuesday)
but for those who first loved them
and may still worry
about this Tuesday.


The homeless couple
sit on the bench,
his hand
reflexively caressing
her shoulder.
She stares into the distance
as the automated sprinklers
wet the grass
around them.
The needle is set
to top 90 today.
He is talking
and gesturing.
His words silenced
by the windows of my car.
Smoke drifts from his cigarette,
his hand drawing wispy shapes
In the early heat
of the morning air.
My light is changing
and I move along,
for all that they do not have
they have each-other.