in parentheses

On the morning of oblivion I rise with the mourning star. I move through the crowds and let our shoulders bump, our hands touch, our eyes wonder. In the park light dazzles children climbing hills, dashing fields, running the jungle gyms lords of all.  And in the cafes hairy legs and summer dresses, grizzly beards and bobbing hair, laughter and venom smiles and consternation ridicule and passion: love and love. On the steps I hear all the words the truants say and today their raucous play does not invade my stay. But before returning home I walk with the old. Along the lake we go so calm that before I know the night has come. And like all of them all of me is here with me and turning to my dear friend I smile: goodnight.