Marketplace Whose Currency Is Citizenship
I met a deep voiced woman,
breast feeding in public,
accompanied by her,
soft voiced husband,
with really big-sized buttocks,
the man,
was shorter
the wife,
whole and taller,
we were in a park,
the grass,
verdant and manicured,
the flowers,
a profuse of clashing colours,
the diversity,
created a unity,
purpose and beauty,
the people in the park,
of whatever extract,
those from,
valleys and hills,
priests and parents,
saints and sinners,
cleaners and litterers,
wasters and repurposers,
the washrooms,
gender neutral,
gendered,
the water fountains,
stained by,
undiscriminating and
abiding love,
they were accessed by,
all people and animals,
men with no beards,
women with hairy bodies,
admiring the beauty,
with no exclusivity,
it was a park,
that included all,
body types of all versions
were the reason,
for admittance,
body types were the,
pass key to this park,
the means of exchange,
the marketplace
it accommodated all,
this park,
whose citizenship,
was claimed by all.
Picture by Jordan Zeus
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