Memorial Park

Late Sunday afternoon
Memorial park, the dreaded third mile
You are mumbling on crushed granite trail
Half your words are lost
I’m searching for meaning in others’ faces.

Something is coming up, I can tell.
Something is on its way.
But I can’t figure out
How to make you produce the hairball
You’ve been choking on all day.

Then you stop and half heartedly hold me
and tell me I am the special one
A friend you will keep for old time’s sake.
That was it; that’s how you broke up with me
a week after your birthday.

Carefully picked colors of the evening sky
smudged to hues of brown.
Like a glass of water had been knocked over
my fresh watercolors.

The untimely dark of daylights savings descending
Pouring colder evening air into the park,
As your lips reached for mine
sucking the last of my protest.

Texas winter warm to till December day
Houston air thick with mystery vapors
Driving everyone crazy or so they say.
Above us planes coming in for landing
Expensive cars rushing us by
just like this park failed in every way
none of this was real to you,
It was dinner theater, it was a play.

E Saglamer (1/7/2018)