Shhh...The Handwriting Is Dreaming!

The sunlight & the shade come to sit in the park & talk I hear them chat about the lovers kissing openly the blanket spread upon the ground their little raft adrift in this sea of grass steering by the constant star of kisses & laughter planning their future down to the last little detail I know that in their future there will be only wooden flooring & that they will sleep on a bed of water the dog freezing in mid-air just before he catches the thrown stick & then rushing back with it for it to be thrown again a little yelp of pleasure only to find his master more interested in a new lady friend whining for his stick to be thrown a flying saucer frisbee’d through the air being missed by outstretched fingertips shouting: “I got it...I...got...it! ” I think: “...not! ” (adding my invisible word to his loud words) a little girl totally lost in her self swinging on a swing the voice of her mother chattering on & on to the voice of another mother about the constant trouble of constant lactating staining her blouse with embarrassment remembering the gaze of the bus conductor her nipples weeping even as she speaks her new baby (a mistake) asleep every now & then checking on the swing her absorbed daughter who hears only herself (inside her head) wondering how the world is made & how all things come to be a philosophic seven a tramp deep in sleep upon a bench all to himself as if he slept in the Ritz like a cartoon one once saw somewhere or the other the sign saying “Wet Paint! ” dreaming beside him his dirty grey hair becoming a royal blue a little boy howling him awake staring at his ice cream upon the ground his hand holding an empty cone his Mummy slapping him with the hand not holding him making him howl all the more children squeezing into the tight centre of bushes behind trees up trees under one’s feet commanding you to “Shhh…! ” the whole park going quiet (even the sunlight hushes the shade) as the seeker seeks their hiding place the one under my feet the one they can not find he nods: “Thanks Mister! ” I think I nod back I smile my frozen paralysed smile the one that only happens inside my head & doesn’t make it to my face the sunlight & the shade leave as lovers & I sit here in the dark until the park keeper touching my sleeping shoulder asks me if I “...can leave now please! ” I leave taking with me everything I’ve seen from the kissing lovers to the lactating mothers turning them into my handwriting that sleeps between the covers of this old note book.