5

Yesterday, in a garden with a duck castle,
I sat and watched couples soak vitamin d
and each other. Like the mallard,

who chased his mate up and down
a stream, waddling through leaves after her,
taking flight only after peering over the weeds,

searching. To the left, a Turkish 20
something with a blonde, smiling with eyes,
stared into small talk. His jacket, slightly

unbuttoned. His hand, resting on her right
thigh. They laughed. To the right, a man
grabs the bottom of a white dress, says

something I'm too far away to hear, falling
into a forever locked in a moment on a bridge.
I'm a voyeur. These scenes bite my eyes,

remind me I'm just close enough to grab,
but not quite have. Sure, snapshot and let it
flutter into oblivion. We're just Pedal boats

on a stream, sticking briefly on a branch.
We're sucking up too much water,
overflowing with language.