Bryant Park Regulars Poem by Kai Ford

The things one sees when the pace is slowed to a green garden seat in the park...

The exasperated heavy weight who pants for hints of oxygen from climbing 5 stairs
or
the business men who dart thru the park w/a sense of entitlement, suited for success w/shiny black dress shoes and designer ties that stifle all forms of individuality.
As I soak in the scenery, a middle aged French motorcyclist pops a squat & engages me in pure folly.
Incessant flooding of compliments on my smile and scarf are followed by large gulps of his favorite spirit, which he brought in a thermal just for 'park viewing'.

The 2 Asian Moonies grab my attention, feet away, as they traverse the grounds looking to prey solely on females searching for wholeness.
the young black street dancers who have clearly castoff fear of rejection, who do the most amazing concrete acrobatics.
the white business lady dressed as demure as conceivable as she struggles to walk in her 5 inch Christian Louboutins,
Or the homeless man who moves from person-to-person asking for money,
not food

I grab my things to depart&it makes me think...someone, somewhere watched me as I watched others, documenting:

'Young black female people watches&writes, ipod & large black sunglasses mute her experience&provides a protective barrier.'
4/14 4: 24pm