Classic Poem

Oh what’s wrong one fat lady’s bobbling away from the steel flotilla and walking to the other
end of the park in delicate steps a slow unease but she’s barefoot and her two pink plastic feet
each have three chewed gum toes
(Plastic don’t seem to sweat and unscrewable like-Ikea)
Maybe she’s ill

The rest low sail and make straight for the sandwich girl
whiffifififififififififififif
fliplipliplipliplipliplip
heaping pecks not upon her ruddy cheeks

A loose motor kid just found his size he’s ignited he will be beating and jumping little things
Smoky mantillas disturbed and charcoal gowns flurried at windy funerals
Again! flurrrrr
Again! flurr

A still man is nudged awake
The sun’s flashing red on his ear
A quill falls upon his chest
Gray feather forecast

A plain feather
Nothing fancy
Not singing wren not feisty robin not an easy sparrow and not to be mistaken for a dove
A nearly-straight spine and an improbably neat parting of improbably neat hair
Until a finger ruffles it the other way

They comb the park at Bedford Square and leave a notice nailed to a tree: MISSING
Photo description phone number
Brunette

It was after this that in London’s parks they mowed down the shrubs and planted Plane trees