Ode To My Mustard-Stained Hands

By John Grey

--

The down-city park

is ripe for strolling.

On a hot cloudless day,

the scenery is as expected:

bare-chested pretty boys

laze on concrete,

women tan their legs,

and some guy

with his hat low

to hide half his face,

hawks knock-off handbags.

The fountain gushes

while locals bathe

in its gentler reaches of its spray.

My eye’s a camera, Fellini’s maybe,

scouting for a scene:

a chorus line of Puerto Rican dancers,

an artist who draws in chalk on pavement,

peeling hip-hop posters,

and a tribe of young girls

who bounce to a boombox beat.

On a makeshift podium,

a white-bearded antique

lectures on Marx and Engels

to an audience of no one.

I grab a hotdog.

Mustard bleeds down my knuckles.

Sun glints off the chrome of a stroller wheel –

a child asleep, mouth open to the breeze.

It’s a moment to add

to all my other moments:

a pigeon’s wing catching light,

the hiss of a bus pulling away,

a mustard-stained hand

to add to all my other

mustard-stained hands.

---

Author Bio:

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Shift, River And South and Flights. Latest books, “Bittersweet”, “Subject Matters” and “Between Two Fires” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Rush, Spotlong Review and Trampoline.