The Park
Weekends are busy at the park but I don’t hide
Anymore. All these people, sometimes they leave behind
useful things from their ordinary life.
Yesterday a lady brought over two cupcakes and a carton of juice.
I shared it with my daughter, a few days late for her 30th birthday.
It’s not how we imagined it would be.
I used to believe in karma, but karma didn’t come for me.
Instead the bank came,
to take my father’s house. I know
I did the right thing, leaving my place, bringing him back to his home
Moving in, holding his hand so he would not stumble
as he passed to the other side.
Then I got a voucher for HUD
but the paper expired
before it could become a key to anywhere.
Tomorrow again I will drive from work to the park,
find a spot I haven’t used for a few days
turn off the engine. I try not to let the gas tank get too low
on hope, but the cascade of no, no, no
has left it with a leak so strong
that some days it just dribbles to empty.
My daughter parks next to me. We cook, wash the pan
Before the bathrooms lock at eight,
unfold our few blankets across the back seats and lock up,
Two hatches clamping shut like oysters
Trying to hold against the tide.