Throwaway

Late spring

Thrust

I bite my lip

Cough up my mind

Anonymous,

Warden of sanity

Incorp. soul

Greets 

Strangers

In the open garden

Keeps the shutters

Closed

Talks Japanese maple

Dreams 

Of biting 

Into the bittersweet fruit

Of the ancient tree

That stands

Up on the fort

One climb

One fall

Risk

Such alluring

Throwaway freedom

When life is

Stop/start

Mechanical deer

Oblivious

That the city park

Is a wall.