I wish I lived in a park.

Maybe one with a swing set and teeter totters

Or one of those marry-go-rounds with the hooped metal bars

and the pie shaped colors of red yellow blue green

mostly worn away by legions of kid sized sneakers

inhabited by kid sized feet.

And a monkey bar set made of wood and steel

and worn just right on its flat surfaces

and cracks here and there on it’s supports

to add a sense of adventure to its use.

The only music allowed would be the sounds

of laughter, and lawn mowers, but only at a distance.

And the legal speed would be stroll or gallop

and nothing in between.

And of course, an ice cream booth

that also carried hot dogs and candied apples

for the more health conscious.

And every day would be summer day

and the time always just right AM.

Cottonwood trees full of squirrels

and the grass populated by hopping sparrows

and worm hunting Robins.

And the only people let in would be those who

could smile for long periods of time.

And any competition would be meaningless and fun

as it was meant to be.

And you could live there too.

In the park.