Benches are stoic ever-presents
Tree surgeons come and go
Children’s hoppy drinks, grown
Men watch their dogs piss
Blow a smoke ring skyward
Listen to the distant doppler shift
The whoosh of speeding traffic
These lost evenings, spent drunk
On each other’s company
Giddy laughter, friendship as
Feeble as the daisies heads
Picked off one by one
Keen stencilers carve our names
With keys, a preservation of
The lack of responsibility
To anyone but ourselves