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The sun forgot to shine today, you know.
Somehow I couldn't find the time to care.
My frizbee melted and my sneaker has a hole in it.
The park was empty, sans birds and children.
Birds and children need sun, you know.
Someone stole the gargoyles and Paradise Alley died.
I tried to take the subway but the conductor got lost.
I would go back to bed if I could, but the cat has claimed my pillow.


Harry walks his dog at night
I dont imagine thats odd
Except for the strips of light reflecting tape
he marks the dog with

Jill hung wooden windchimes
She said metal ones weren't good for the environment
cos the smoke from factories kills living things
I had to ask her if she heard the tree screaming
as the saw tore through it
Jill wont speak to me any more

Ben can spend hours tuning his guitar in the courtyard
I've yet to hear him play
I wonder often if he might be tone deaf

Mrs Grainger's cat stopped by to visit
with its mangey coat and a ribbon on its collar
I fed him tuna from my plate and set him free
from her obsession with bows
He'll be back tomorrow, I'm sure
Not for the tuna
He seems to favor the mayonnaise

Harley's son blew bubbles from the floor below
He wanted me to catch them but they sailed across the courtyard
splattering Bens guitar and dancing past Jills windchimes


Rain fell in big lazy drops
and took their time
wending their way
down the windowpanes

If I could hurry them along
maybe the rain would stop
But then I would have
nothing to watch,
on this lazy Sunday

Yes, its Sunday again
The day of parks
and childrens laughter
But the dog has fleas
and perhaps I should bathe him

If i climb out on the fire escape
I wonder how long it would take
the rain to melt me

I wish I could be more like the windchimes
hanging outside
They respond more favorably
to the rain


She sets the daffodils
vase and all
at the corner of the fire escape

Their sunny faces
brighten the space

She wonders (as she often does
of such obscure things)
How can they seem so cheery
when in fact, they're dead

For all intents and purposes

She travels through her mind
back to the park
with its meandering paths
and hidden treasures

It was there she first encountered
the lone bloom with the sunny yellow face

It seemed so far from its own

Down to its very bulb
she brought it home
and tenderly gave it a home

And then she cried
it was watching the death
of its brothers and sisters

alone on the fire escape

With resolve she returned it
to its rightful place
vowing never again
to buy cut flowers


I wonder how many steps it is from here to L.A.
If I start now, would I be there in time for Christmas?
I'll pack light.
Just the necessities.
Spare sneakers.
A new frisbee
and a few apples.

Strangers can be kind or cruel.
I guess it depends on what kind of day they've had.
That's just human nature, maybe.
If I keep smiling maybe someone will smile back.

The view from the fire escape seldom changes.
Maybe I need that.
The sameness.
Mock stability.
Dressed in costume for the audience.

L.A. seems so far.
Maybe a miniature palm tree
on the fire escape will suffice for now.