The Lonely Little Pigeon

I am sitting on the park bench waiting for a friend I am sitting on the park bench wondering When it is going to end Chirping birds flying from tree to tree Dancing to their predicted destiny Cars and trucks rumbling up and down the town And a strange music is playing gingerly around Little children climbed merrily up the slender palm tree Giggling and crawling on their knees chatter and laughter circulates the air Waiting for an answer from somewhere I am sitting on the park bench Wondering when it is going to end I am sitting in the sweltering heat Waiting for the journey to complete Only If I had a special place to go I would have started the show Me and you walking hand in hand I would meet you half way And take you to the promise land No friends, no hen what then? A whisper, a shout, what is this all about? Young girls dancing to an unfamiliar rhythm The music is tossing in one direction and their bodies are tumbling in another direction I thought of packing a little bag And wander off in another land Just as I have thought of it Two handsome men came along and sat on the bench next to me They scrutinize every fellow in town And observed everything around They look more like the cops Bad guys or undercover officers I just could not figure them out They looked at me occasionally As if they knew me already I asked a few question and I learned that they are from Colombia and work in the restaurant in town They watched the little boys running up and down the soccer field and watched the young girls and woman’s butt They were looking for a date but it was too late. They bought Popsicle and Gazed at the woman’s butt as she pushed the Popsicle cart along The chirping birds sound is getting louder and louder And the trees are over crowded The birds are holding court And all the spectators begin to shout I am sitting on the park bench waiting patiently for the conference call I want to know when you are going to join me So that we can go hiking and horseback riding The sun is hot and my temperature is rising Nothing about this moment is surprising Artificial soil, artificial ground Everywhere is dry and heaven is not listening to their cry and I just can’t understand why Nature is disappearing from town And the palm trees are dilly dallying around The leaves are hanging in the air And the ground is hard and bare, the moisture has disappeared Where do I go from here? As I was thinking about it a lonely pigeon Walked under my feet telling me discreetly that the task is complete.