So I just got back from lunch. I take lunch from 12 - 1pm, which isn't the best hour. I used to hang out with work folk during lunch but nobody likes taking lunch that early. Most people go home later than I do and they like to dely lunch so their afternoons seem longer. Most of the time I just buy something and come back to the office to work on personal stuff. On the computer, making phone calls, paying bills, etc.
Yesterday I picked up a new habbit. I walked to 59th & 5th and found a nice bench where the sun was shinning perfectly. This is where I wrote trite poetry. Today I went back. I sat and read some of "Matadora" by Sarah Gambito, and re-read since I don't always understand what she writes right away. She has so much beautiful metaphor. Like not metaphor in a poem but poems that are metaphor. Beautiful concepts and incredible choice of words. I met her through Patrick Rosal and I do trust his taste in poetry.
So anyway as I sat and read a few poems, I kept getting distracted by all the kids marching by me. Of course I pick the bench that is right on the path that exits the Central Park Zoo . There was a fleet of huge yellow busses and the kids walked hand in hand as in a parade. Of course I couldn't read with all the distracting chatter, so I decided to write. I had a nice small free write from where I saw them.
Because of the way I feel I'll ask people to read and send me emails with comments or possible edits. Keep in mind that this is still a free write and I have yet to examine it with detail.
Although this may be an unorthodox method, it is what I want to do. My email is on the side bar if you don't know me and wish to send me a comment.

Umm here it is:

New lunch
Parade of children walking hand to hand to hand.
All wear school bus shaped tags,
Bronx schools
Trips to Central Park Zoo,
When it doesn't hold as much
Instinct as their own zoo

They walk had to hand to hand
Yelling I spy elephant,
I spy school bus.

This taste of central park burning
Taste buds off of young tongues.

Talking yo’ moma this and
Chewing on school made peanut butter alternative.

They board busses,
Yellow with seats of hydraulics.

Some carry lunch boxes, while others hide dry tuna in brown paper
bags.

The juicy juice vandals.
Clutching to the pouch that stains on first puncture.

They children smile under trees and horse shit air.

"This is the greatest park in the city"
The chaperon speaks.
And some children dream of Crotona.

"Millions play in this park"
And one child pictures Van Cortland.

They walk hand to hand to had,
With teddy bear shaped tags
These come all the way from jersey

And that pack from PS 304
Another Bronx school.

With ten minutes left to my parade of schools,
They give me a look,
That shares my train,
As we all head back.
Out of this world and back to hustle.

It is all the same hustle,
Only they don't know it yet.