Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Concealing Scent


look over
water is clouded in the duck park
dusk is beginning
so is my break
all female ducks
drinking, stretching
one quacks
multiple stand on one leg
exposed colors under their wing.

Possessions lay on dry ground.
A shirtless man steps into the fountain,
a coin is tossed to the ledge
spouts are sat on, pinched,      looking to the light, squint.     
Back is covered, chest drips, his hands wipe his face
Evening sun from my right
he notices me on a bench
nothing happens, he is cleaner.

Dad said nothing I wanted to hear.
in our case. It brings closure to a difficult
time.
its not quite all signed off on yet. A few more weeks.
Ducks moved passed, content with asexual environments.
So is he - not with her.
You were so certain.

On the ledge with his shirt on, looking when I look back, he knows I watched. He knows,
I know he is cleaner - cooler, washed of the filth he felt
heat of the moment decision that will never be forgot. 

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American with a little Tidewater, Appalachia, and Yankeedom.