In the Park

On the grass
someone is sleeping;
I think it's a woman.
I think she's asleep
under that green plastic
directly in front of that
by the drinking fountain;
supermarket bags arranged
on the seat.
But I don't want to wake
her and ask her.
No doubt they contain the
usual things;
old magazines, broken
biros, newspaper,
a curl of orange peel, two
or three cans of beer,
a scattering of bent or
broken cigarettes,
smelly clothes, tangled
you know the sort of thing.
Nearby a man and some
children play;
wrestling on a heap of
bouncy blocks.
Another man is pushing a
bike away.