Newspoem 22 June 2018: Hessel Park
At Hessel Park. The Mexican girl does amazing stunts on the monkey bars. She does a backflip and her shoes fall to the gravel. She is not detained and separated from her family. Later she goes up the largest slide backwards. The Chinese boy runs with joy to the plastic rocks. With some trouble he manages to climb to the top. Nobody puts a black hood over his head. His mother watches from below.
The Palestinian girl is on the seesaw with her mother. Her mother wears a scarf. Neither of them is put into a chain link enclosure. They bounce happily on the spring-loaded turtle-shaped playground equipment. The American man and his daughter are on the double swings. Together they improvise a song based on Yellow Submarine. Nobody has a machine gun, nobody has ever seen one. It is time for them to go to dinner together.
The playground is swarming with children and parents and no agents. The sun shines through the clouds and trees though the hour grows late. Will the black vans with no windows come it looks like it might rain again soon.
There is an adorable 14-month-old Black girl. Her agenda seems only to keep moving and remain upright. Her mother smokes a cigarette standing a respectful distance from the playground. There are no police anywhere in sight.
Children of ages, races, and genders play together separately. Parallel or alone. Some strike spontaneous but deep friendships. None of them are forcibly separated from their families. The water park closes at seven but there's still enough water pressure for them to enjoy a sprinkle here and there.
Heather is delighted to climb to the top of the highest tower and ride the biggest slide down to the bottom. She enlists me to help push her three new friends on the merry-go-round. Neither of us is detained by any enforcement agency.
We meet a friendly dog named Mimi. Mimi is not a police dog.
2018