by John Grey
It happened yesterday,
in the park where I walk the dog.
The man’s still in hospital.
Critical, so they say.
The ones that did it got away.
And today, I’m walking the dog,
circling the spot
where they grabbed him for no reason,
threw him to the ground,
kicked him in the chest, the groin, the head.
It’s a calm, peaceful, beautiful afternoon.
The dog sniffs the trees, the hydrant,
the lamp-posts, like he always does.
He’s checking to see
if any mail was left for him.
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