In the Park

I'm in my local park, a concrete lane along a river bank.

It's night. First I pass the statue-man, the guardian at the gate, sitting upright as ever on the park bench, wrapped up like an Everest adventurer with only his eyes not covered. It's eight o'clock and he's on his bench, asleep for the night, his bicycle beside him.

I pass the cat ladies. They're setting up to feed their babies. There's a loneliness in coming here to feed stray cats. They give the best of food, served from a variety of carefully-packed lunch boxes. They're doing no harm, and cats are, after all, cuter than homeless people.

I pass the youngsters practicing roller-blading. They've set up camp a few benches away. They're well prepared and tentative. It's serious business.

I pass the homeless who sleep in the sheltered area further down. They're a peaceful bunch. One has a ginger cat he keeps on a leash. Many collect second-hand magazines and manga comics to sell outside stations. They get on well. But every morning before Official Local Park-Cleaning Troupe No. 75 Regiment—a bunch of zealous, self-righteous, retired volunteers proud of their cleanliness and diligence—storm in on their serious and important mission, the homeless must vacate their homes.

The homeless ones and the ones that hose down roads.

I pass housewives and their well-dressed miniature dogs, old men doing stretches, others belching, farting, scratching their balls and hocking on the path. The ones who never look where they're going but get indignant when they walk right into you. The ones who stare. The ones who won't move out of the way. There's no surrender in their war. I pass the joggers, the power-walkers, the old and the infirm. The high-pitched students on their mobile phones. I see the boots of autumn.

I see fashions changing with the seasons but always the same scene. Another night in my concrete local park.

I know them but they don't know me.

Just another outsider always passing through.

There but not there.

Sad sarcasm in the land without irony.

Posted by Setsunai at October 6, 2005 12:59 PM