Midnight Park

Velvet quiet,

wise lamps,

lakes like oil spills,

statues that wink behind you,

and the soft flutter of sleepless birds…

What’s there not to like about a midnight park?

And then you have the occasional oddball…

Such as the Frenchwoman who was talking to herself and gesticulating fiercely on lone alleys,

and then turned away whenever she came across me.

But she was too well dressed to be a madwoman, and
the blue blouse draped over her shoulders was quite chic.

So, when I espied her take out of her pocket a bunch of ruffled
papers, my doubts were confirmed:

Ophelia rehearsing.

5 thoughts on “Midnight Park

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