The man with the baseball cap

The man with the baseball cap
sitting in the park squints into the sun
as though the shaft of afternoon glare
would melt him into air.
He surveys the span of the football field
where young children gambol & shout:
O but the game they play are ancient & rough!
When will they ever, ever learn
Lords of the Flies will live, or quickly die
with nary a sense of their future plight
Why one’s savagely sad, or scaringly alive…
The baseball cap’s lowered over his eyes…
Once was I in the fastlane, now I‘m invisible
This hides my desolation, vulnerability, all.

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