ON THE EDGE

On the edge of the park
Border of a cosmic limit
Zero is my position, bells
Toll the hour, white faced
Numbered moon signals
Mid-morning; St Peter
In cement holds his keys
Jesus carved in wood
Toils his cross, bracing
Breeze stirring passion,
A durable conversion.
Yesterday high clouds
Bumbled rolling yodel
Thunder beyond volcanoes
From cumulating cumulus. 
Then a dog bitch
Drug herself out
From under my bench
As there were police
On both corners,
Watching what movements?
Was it my memory of,
Under surveillance:
Monday’s sun
10:00 O’clock high
Shadow lacework
Under green trees
Along a highway bank?

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    November 6, 2006
    Palmares, Costa Rica