we are all only lonely girls on park benches
legs entwined, swinging unbridled, as we peek through long shuttered lashes

the man swallowed in fading greys
he is prostate on that bench
peeking through bars of oak and endless views
he dares not seep from reality
gripped by wood

old aunt crazy cat
she was once such a man
engulfed in pipe dreams
and she doth peek back
through stems of newly birthed bench bamboo
waiting for lovers to enter their woods.