The inevitable waits on a park bench with no name
We sometimes wonder how we’ll cope when it rises
Shakes its coat, lumbers or lunges toward us
Bringing so many inconclusive
And maybe undeserved
Anxieties into our very un-carefully organized lives
Once, we were in love with that bench
Ate lunch, cheese sandwiches, there
Watching pigeons and old men playing chess
Under a canopy of Sycamores
Near the boy with a Pogo stick and ear buds
All the pretty decoys
As if this was our calm and beautiful future
We trusted ourselves and those around us
We trusted the “universe” as we misunderstood it
But nothing has the force of inevitability
As it rises from those anonymous
Mysterious and illustrious benches
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