Free flow scat in the park

Spectrum of sound and sight.
Multilingual chatter of voices and laughter.
The crashing of the fountain fills my ears and its cool mist soothes my sin
like cool drops of holy water on my skin.
Jazz music floats through the air infusing its creative sound, and sensation into everything.
I can feel it all come together vibrating
as if searching for a tonal climax.
Encircled by cement sitting areas, park benches, and trees, I sit back and relax.

The food vendors send their greasy aromas out wafting through the air,
inciting a rebellion against my hunger,
catching my belly in its lies.
The hustlers are hustling, doing their dances with their quick shifty glances, twisted smiles, and half cocked bloodshot eyes.
The chess players strategize, the intellectuals intellectualize, and the politicos politicize.
The bums are bumming change, while the jugglers juggle, and the smugglers smuggle and the dealers deal,
the birds chirp and I am the thief on the bench trying to steal
a smile, or perhaps a glance, or even a batting of the eye.
I am the poet in the shade searching for the perfect line.
In fact I am a bit surprised
that in the park
more pigeons in flight and pedestrians don't collide.