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The Park

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We go there a lot
or whenever we can.
Laughing, yawning, yelling,
it’s a place where we can be ourselves

Grassy green,
little hills and dips
the hard, thick picnic table,
the trees covering the dirt path.

So many memories here
of just this year.
How far we’ve come?
Through everything together.

But we always end up coming back,
walking on the little footpath
over the river
and into a different world
where little kids play
and people lie on the grass,
without a care in the world.

You can still see the movie theater from across the river,
Trader Joes, Longs
But once we’re there,
none of that seems real anymore.
The only trace we have
is the usual liter of soda
to keep us energetic.

“Hand me the soda” over and over and over again
we’re joined by others,
5 backpacks discarded around the table,
we’re sitting on top of it
“I’m tired” complaints and complaints.
“So go sleep on the bench. You’re allowed to here” an inside joke brings smiles to our faces.

It happens every time
But it always seems new.
We’re at peace.
No drama, no worries, no fights.
It draws us in,
captures us,
and never lets us go.





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