HALLELUIAH - A BALBOA PARK STORY

I’m going to sit under this tree

Today and listen to the birds for awhile.

I won’t make any money.

I’m going to watch the children

From the camp scamper around the lawn

During their recess as the teenaged counselors

Try to corral them like the wayward kittens they are. 

Give me a moment here. 

I will close my eyes. 

I will breathe slowly.

I will try to be happy for a while.

Is that a Leonard Cohen song in the distance,

ringing from the bell tower to tell me

It’s noon?  I make a mental note to call 

the park when I get home and ask. 

I snooze for awhile, listening to the nearby busker

singing soft rock on his guitar. In a few minutes,

I will walk over, drop a couple bills in his case.

What would it take to walk away from pain I wonder?

How do I spend my days far from

The Disciplinarian’s reach, simply searching

For the moment? Part of the answer, I think,

Is here in the garden by the pond. My head

Against this trunk, my eyes on the clouds overhead.
And even if the answer isn’t here, it still won’t be so bad.