late evening on a hard old wooden bench by the marina
chipped, faded paint no longer in fashion
bench dedicated to someone I’ve never heard of
yellow sun falling beneath blue water in the orange sky
people snapping pictures that they’ll look at once probably
boats slowly pass red and green lights reflecting on the glassy surface
old men shuffling along with their canes and english bulldogs
younger people being walked by labradors brown and gold
children with one last slide down the slide before dusk settles in
mothers behind strollers telling them it’s time to go
get ready for school tomorrow-unfulfilling jobs—empty afternoons
bridge stretching out from one side of the bay to another
white lights coming--red lights going
to fancy penthouses by the water, bayside homes
places I’ll never set foot in
park emptying out, lights white glow lonely
one last look and then mosey on along- no hurry
walk by the tropical looking bar next to the parking lot
live band catatonic customers dead atmosphere
not much spirit in monday nights
