Existential Park Poem by robert seminara

Idiocy out for a stroll
Me benched, amazed at his gait.
I get up and go his way.
Sudden urges creep in and make their home in me.
Heroin seems a good idea.
We're in stride, he's a bit taller, but I slouch.
Other benches of craned necks now up to follow.
We're a tribe.
Diddling and giggling through the park.
A pack of thieving comedians
stealing air from the upright.
This belonging to stupidity feels intrinsic!
The tribe all chip in for a bundle of vice.
We share till we run low, then we lie to each other's face.
Then we go it alone none the dumber.
Well maybe a little.
I'm back at my bench.
So many are out going this way and that way,
a voluptuous flirtation grabs me by the eyes!
I'm back on my feet but off my heels following like a shadow.