saturday at the park

the man made
lake,
wide and shallow,
maybe two feet deep
at best
and five miles
around
is beautiful
in the sunlight.
a united nations
of picnickers
come and light
the grills,
turning up
their music.
after a hard
rain the cans
and tires, float
off to one corner
of the kidney
shaped lake,
the plastic
bags and empty
wine bottles,
the syringes
and spent condoms
all gather,
as if cornered
and caught near
the metal dock
where the kayaks
and canoes
disembark. sometimes
small children
avoiding
the broken glass
and debris
step into the water
with their
pants rolled up
and chase
with glee
the ducks who lean
in with long necks
and fierce black eyes
for food.