that buMp by the swing-set

February 4, 2008
ruby red fire hydrants tower above,
draped with frozen yellow gumdrops.
I catch the placid, homemade sent,
of the park porta-potty.

why am I on this cold concrete?
oh yes, my anti-training wheels
rocks delving deep into peach fuzz flesh
those tears do feel good, but the soap sure doesn’t.

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