Children in screeching sun-hats weave, lurking hippies, through hazy heat of Blondie, recalled by fat men - balding; myself included. Families and beer, sunshine, cheer, existential fear, weeping pride in mediocrity. No need to succeed. No goal for a poet but, dammit, we write. A dog slides a tongue inside my ear. Violated. I'm not sure I mind.
“Families and beer, sunshine, cheer, existential fear…”
I like how the poem lets absurdity and honesty exist in the same breath. Beneath the humour there’s something very human here: the strange tenderness of ordinary people trying to enjoy being alive for a few hours together.