Unshaven unshowered
hoodie soul-patch leash-taut
dog-dragging morning stumble
past the local school.
SUV retinue
gas-chugging polished moms
leery of child-snatching fiends,
scary looking men like me.
Veering off the sidewalk
into the cool tree-shade park
doggy does as doggy-doo
baggy swallow the shit.
Drawn up short, I see it
abandoned near the swing set:
purple plastic tricycle
broken handle cracked wheel.
Toxic tree juice in disguise
buried a million years ago
exhumed from its ancient crypt
and hardened into this.
Where is the world’s danger?
Does it howl in the dark?
Scratch at the screen window?
Walk a dog in the park?
