Evening in the Park, Almost Alone
People leave their leavings:
crumpled candy wrapper
Kleenex rained to pulp
An empty can rattles on the distant parking lot.
Behind the clouds a thumbnail moon
ancient as an angel's scythe
floats glowing through forbidding murk.
I'm waiting for a knife...
Here the sunlight turns to black,
here the clocks unwind,
here I stumble heart attack,
here I lose my mind.