Park Bench Poem by Kim McInnis

Though I was born from it and regard it with the obligatory filial honour, I care not for nature. If you can wrap your head around it, I found life in the wild to be humid and gruelling; my limbs often tired of the sweaty mist. So I believe I am much more comfortable here on mathematically formulated turf. Far fewer surprises; I've never been entirely fond of surprises. I'm alone, not lonely. The view is clear for miles of yard, and the small company I receive I adore voraciously. Straggling mongrels, studying me with such interest I've never known before. Shadowy figures, they come two-by-two, finding both confidence and convenience in my presence; each pair unique but remarkably the same. Isn't that true about all of us? Not even I, in all this expanse of infinite isolation, am individual. Somewhere I know there is a twin for me, she whose filmy grain of character would mirror mine completely. It's an awareness I can feel running coarse through my frame and veins, it's a faith I cling to even while I've committed myself to stand firm and reliable.

She just may be a bit hard for me to reach, what with the being bolted to the ground and all.