At the refreshments stand A boy throws out his hands As if to feed the starlings But really he throws nothing It’s just to watch them jump. See the people coming Lumbering over the grass To squeeze into plastic chairs
Near the memorials to vietnam and lincoln
Three notes, a bugle call A black man in overalls Arrives to empty the trash Hauls it to a metal hatch A doorway opens up To the underworld. The boy throws empty hands The starlings jump
