Parked
Dad and I would spend hours
on benches in parks.
Like bums chasing quarters,
we’d mumble to ourselves
in hopes of parsing words to
hit some meaningful results.
But the lookers-on continued
digging into empty pockets to
indulge this disjointed display
while we too continued to fumble
for sounds to come correctly,
just a solitary phoneme
to entail some departure from the bench.
Michael Lacy is a Creative Writing and Descriptive Linguistics student at Central Connecticut State University