In the park off Peoria street
Hot Saturday sun
Dogs growling, chasing, fighting.
Women who fetchingly smile
And keep walking.

The grass is city grass
Patchy with dry earth and weeds.
Too many bodies per square foot
Or too many dogs tracking scents.

The wind hasn’t changed
Warm and cool whipping
Across my bare arms
Like sirens chasing down streets
Rescuing the injured.

In America,
False promises poison the soul
With somnambulance.

I passed a dead sparrow
On the sidewalk this morning
It must have hit the window
Under which it lay.
I felt the briefest grief
For its lonely death
And wondered how long
It would lay there alone.

Alone in a city of millions.
Alone, trying to make sense with words,
Sensing the infinite pressing down its purpose
In some as yet unknown design
I am ready.