City Park
by John V. Haynes


I
In a city park ashy man animals on rotisserie benches turn over in the sun with their flesh roasting like discarded KFC chicken wings at a dysfunctional family picnic until they rise up as dirty phoenixes to ask the fantastically pretty office girls in running shoes for cigarettes and nickels.



II
Flashing blushes of Indian corn teeth and retreating like shy carnivores in their greasefried pants into sanctuary restrooms, they salivate at the prospect of devouring the half-eaten Whoppers that fall from fully satiated lips onto refuse municipal plates.


III
Later, conquering and dividing their sustenance in their bottomfeeder beds of contentment as the office girls in running shoes walk to their Hondas, they don't notice the whispering and staring because they are too busy laying down at home for the evening in anticipation of a masterly starry sky.






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