Tuesday evening in the park

Was the young man looking up at the great tree, who then knelt down and touched his head to the ground several times, an exuberant nature lover? Was he not the same as the one I'd just seen pacing around monkishly with a thick open book in his hands, its tasseled book-mark trailing out of it's center? Who reminded me of Vincent in Heaven Lake? And when he turned around and gave me a piercing look after I said "that's too bad" into my cell phone, what was he thinking? When I thought of his short hair, athletic build, and youth, I wondered if he came back from a war and began cultivating a passion to know more about Islam. Could be he will marry someone like one of the girls from Baghdad I knew, who became interpreters for the army. Or perhaps he hasn't been to war at all. Maybe he is a conscientiously pagan tree worshipper. (Tho somehow, I rather doubt it.) He pedalled away on a bicycle. In the car I listened to Datura. Spring Haze.