Static Electricity

The plastic slide is cold and midnight black

collecting dew instead of screaming kids.

The woodchips crunch beneath my heavy pack

and rest against my tired, heavy lids.

A single mitten, blue and wet with rain,

is zip-tied to the fence along the street.

It looks like someone reaching out in pain

for a hand it’s never going to meet.

The rubber swing seat gives a rhythmic creak

that cuts through all the silence of the park.

I’m feeling very old and very weak

just standing here alone inside the dark.