Laying on one of Fort Greene’s Shady Groves
The afternoon
Not quiet.
Hammering from a construction site,
Sirens,
The rumble of Brooklyn
A mumbled conversation of two young women
The chirp of two grackles a distant dump truck dropping its load.
Another conversation
High-pitched.
I can make out phrases
The two young people are not discussing poetry.
A trio of young teenage girls replace the young women
For a second they were hippie chicks in Boston Common
1969
Their laughter reinforced that mirage
Their language comes from the future.
I can’t decipher their words
Except for “…they’re like…”
I love the park of Babble.
The spring wind hushes over the grove
The leafy boughs bob in the breeze.
More laughter
Non-stop hammering
Sirens.
The silent wind rushing through the trees.
The people
The park
The city
We are us
Alone apart together
Fort Greene Park
