Between bookends

I was struck in that park by the gauze over life

The protective parabola stretching out over head

Reminders, suggestions, instructions,

fallbacks, windows and fish lunches

Notifications!

The sun still pours down

While work sets you up for the long-haul:

Rigid sails and agendas like larders – he said he keeps ten barbeque sauces.

I know I have traded the unknown for safety.

As people walked spaniels, could they push through to an inkling of freedom?

Just two old men on a bench a loose joy exuded,

overhung by yews and a willow

The sun still pours down

If you pay attention:

Life is that woman in that cell block, Caracas.

Every 8 minutes she appears on her balcony checking her blouses.

You can watch or be her.

The clothes tremble in the wind.