The Other Side

oft tangled leaves
crispy
like old licorice whips
in the pre-summer wind
cheer a wink
from the left eye
of a child wondering skyward
following a Spiderman
kite string drawing a
white line to shifting
percale clouds
rushed by the whistling
of a western crowd
gathered on the other side of the state

marshmallow crap from airborne seagulls
collect on the picnic tables
arranged in mahjong patterns
used only on weekends by
families rich enough
to afford coolers and ice

on the other side of the fence
broken glass
attempts to rip blood from
small ebony brothers and sisters
who run shoeless
like bees around a hive
trying to spy
the food emerging from
blue and white
polyurethane

moist exhales of exhaustion
blow back at the crowd to the west
before the rain falls and
scatters us all to our corners