you see them
at the county park
in cars and vans, small
trucks on the gravel lot
at the far end
where no one goes
practicing the art of driving.
rolling slowly around
the bends. parking
between cones.
the man shaking his head.
saying something
in another language.
children are in the backseat.
sometimes a dog.
you watch the abrupt stops
and starts,
the wrong turn signal,
the horn and wipers
being pushed. sometimes
the woman is crying.
you see the man drinking
a beer, turning
the bottle up
to his mouth as
the woman tries to do
a three point
turn around.
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