from After Han Shan
A group of young women play soccer in the park,
in the fading light their perfume mingles with sweat,
and they’ve got butterflies tattooed on their tailbones,
or Celtic-looking script on their forearms.
Their friends are girls in Camp Quality bandanas
and two gay men in acid wash jeans.
I cough and they glance my way,
my temples greying with stupid worry.