The Day

On the black granite
in the path of fresh water
squeaking over the edge
with the risen tide
between recreational movement
and waves,
jugglers bend their knees to
their circulations.
skateboarders smoke
doing tricks
over inconsistencies in pavement.

We jumped at times,
peddled past the tween groups
snapping photos
in suits
and actions which
made me wonder the story.

the radio played and
strangers filled with tears
over a familiar voice
and a face
morphed grossly over time.

continents crowded the forum-
'regards from Poland'.
'burn in hell from England'
'questions from the US'.

The Irish pub exonerated his face and
we took deep breaths into our glasses.