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The Wrestle
He sat in the crowded park at noon
like someone would sit alone in the dark.
Slightly slouched and still, the sun
bore down on him, glistening his forehead with shine.
Over and over, he twirled the gold band
around on his left ring finger.
His only movement, and it was
an unconscious one.
With kids playing, grownups visiting, birds chirping,
he stared straight ahead in his silent world
at the one thing he noticed: the fountain.
It was large, tall, and with grayish stone,
happily gurgling and spurting water.
Hundreds of wishes sparkled in the sunlight
underwater in the form of nickels and pennies.
Suddenly, he rose, stuffing his right hand
into his pants pocket.
He withdrew his hand,
clutching a handful of change.
With a deep breath, he hurled the coins
using all his force.
The tintinnabulation of $2.74 bouncing off
the structure caught the attention of the others.
Without seeing the reaction, and possibly
to avoid it, he turned and walked away.
His head was not high, nor was it low.
Rather, he walked as if things were normal,
his gait just casual enough to belie him.