They're draining the lake at Drake park this year,
which is anyway more of a pond than a lake.
And as the water draws down we see sewer and
storm drains, revealing its actual role as a reservoir.
Now along its meager banks are empty bottles of
Bud Light beer, Pepsi pop cans, fast food
bags and wrappers like land-mine debris.
Black birds hoist their beaks over the branches
and broken glass to eat at the leftover ring
of algae and scum.
The lake is now a pathetic and exhausted
denizen who will tell you, if you listen,
"I was beautiful once.
When you couldn't see beneath my waters."
But they must do this, to clean the damage of others,
or else she will die.
I sit with you by these banks
and tell you what I see.
But you don't comprehend the metaphor
and I fall silent.
Drake Park
by Kevin S McFadden
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

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