pence

i sit on a stone bench
it is quite cool
the sun on my shoulders however is not
a meter away from me are two long legged blonds
talking
about everything and nothing
classes being too hard for their pretty little heads
what they think of dress slacks
its all the same
i want them to leave
eventually they do
i wonder what the ones who work full time
are doing
right
now
bicyclists ride past me to and from
as i ponder how to spell bicyclists
a concerned man stops by
briefly that is
to tell me words
and pat my shin
but the stairs await me
standing there steadfast
like a true lover
longing for my return