My Father's Poems: October 2, 2022

Daily Diary, Day 761:

STILL THEY SIT

in crescendo
of young noise
from small hispanics
pump-screeching plastic Big-Wheels
across the gray-dry cement,
in booming rattle
and shriek like cries
of banshee trucks on the cobbled street,
still ragged hulks
on the hard bench circle of the park,
with other Zadie,
cool in the fake comfort
of the hot wind off the Hudson,

TRYING

with some success
to achieve meditation.

—Joseph Locke