We will defend this place
Till the last drop of beer
And the first drop of rain.
People’s Park
The wizards in old tales used to bury their hearts in secret places
And unless you dug up the heart and destroyed it
They were invulnerable and heartless.
Part of my heart is buried in People’s Park.
Not all of it.
not even the largest part —
Other places, people, and I’m no wizard
so I keep some of it myself.
Part of my heart is buried in People’s Park.
Leave it alone. It’s the part that will never be reasonable
never grow up and know better and do worse.
It’s young.
Breathing is sweet to it and wild and scary.
It remembers meeting soldiers’ bayonets with daffodils.
It remembers tear gas drifting over swing sets.
It will always be young.
Leave it alone.
I go to the Park sometimes to talk to it — not often.
Time passes and it doesn’t always recognize me.
But it tells me there are many hearts buried with it
All young, all proud of what they made and fought for.
Do not disturb them.
Do not build on them.
Do not explain that times have changed.
Do not tell them it’s for their own good.
They’ve heard that before.
They will not believe you.
There are many hearts buried in People’s Park,
and part of my own as well.
Oh leave them alone.
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