Seeing hats and six packs held aloft
Sun spinning off water like sparkle darts
The grass a matting for extended play
Children's laughter bubbling like liquid fun
Lounge chairs arranged and shade taken
We splay like figures from Manet's
Le déjeuner sur l'herbe
Except that she isn’t naked - not yet
And the dark folds of foliage
Beckon us into their deep becoming
Calling us back to some organic principle
But shy as we are we prefer
The comfort of strangers
Playing ball games on the wide lawns
Complete with sunscreen and beer
And the knowledge that the next sausage
Will be just as good as the last
Still the shadows call like sirens
And a doom is cast over the afternoon
So we slip away into the green folds
Stealthy as sylphs on ketamine
The dark musty earth in our mouths
Rolled with worms in sticky clay
Roots extending down into the earth
Emerging into a world hyperreal
Still bright, clueless and calm
Between equitable paddles
On a pond where eels writhe
Slick and lithe as boneless arms
© shaun patrick green 2011
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