The rosy-cheeked, disheveled woman saw the
Poltergeists weave under and
Around the monumental park arch, so much
So that she dropped her plastic bag
Filled with everything she owned
And cherished, thereby setting her
Hands free to applaud them as they
Set about in their anarchistic abandon
Magically whirling debris with whistling sounds,
Creating traces of colored lines that were
Utterly magnificent for this lone observer
To behold. What a shame – she thought –
That she must relish in this free performance
Art alone. And how blessed she considered herself
That only she could enjoy such a gift in her
Own dusty, litter-strewn amusement park while
Others there could content themselves with just
Simply staring at her.
—Stephen L. Anderson
[appeared in The Silent Tango of Dreams published by Pudding House Publications,
©2006]