watching the trolley go round the bend

in early summer clover
among the sycamores
the number thirteen trolley turns the corner
swaying gently, hugging the curve

nothing prettier than a Kawasaki trolley car
going round the bend
swaying gently like a young country girl
dosey-doe-ing in the Virginia Reel

tipping, rocking, hugging the curve
like a slo-mo
slo-mo, slo-mo, slo-mo
jet rollercoaster flickering by

around the Home of the Merciful Savior
orange school buses swarm like honey bees
little half-length buses, orange and black
swarming like queen bees

I inhale the funky summer clover
and close my eyes
the park is primeval, Edenic
no insectoid plastic junk

none of those heavy metal carapaces
those zombie automobiles
no fence – the crippled children
stumble out into the deep clover

and the number thirteen trolley
glides round the corner, hugging the rails
clickety clickety clickety clack
in Clark Park, among the sycamores