no, mom, i’m not heartbroken.
i’d need a heart for that, wouldn’t i?
it had unfortunately dripped down
on the curved park bench
that me and him were lying on
when he told me
he found

i’m not

Them: Hey you know Dizzee?

Brain: Ah yes, Dizzee. Dizzee Kipling. Pretty Dizzee D. Rumi 411. Sweet summer child. Cinnamon of all rolls. Rebel. Graffiti legend. Brother to Yolanda, Ra-Ra and Boo-Boo. Parents own a salon. Member of the Fantastic Four Plus One. Member of the Get Down Brothers. Regular at the Writer’s Bench. Friend to Zeke, Shao, Mylene, Regina, Daze, Crash and Thor. Free spirit, Dizz.

Me: Yeah I think I know who you’re talking about?

La Magie Du Banc De Parc

I always imaged meeting my kindred spirit while sitting on a park bench. Gazing upon the horizon, contemplating on all earthly matters until we were old and grey.  Philosophizing on our existence. Debating and laughing. Or simply just sit and listen to the orchestra that is nature. Appreciating time and stillness.  It sounds quite magical..The idea of meeting a kindred soul while reading and sitting on a park bench. Having  a deep talk about nothing and everything. That feeling of SERENDIPITY…A chance meeting. Ending up with a best friend.People come into your life for a reason. Kindred souls attract each others.Whether we like it or not. I believe in attraction. I have met the sweetest humans while sitting on a bench. A sweet old gentleman telling a story about his hero son.  A woman sharing an incredible tale about her Parisian love affair.  A little girl asking me about all my adventures in beautiful Africa.  Sharing with me her lovely  dream to save all the animals with her mum. A surfer dude who shares his love for food.  A musician giving me his insight and knowledge on the evolution of music. Aahh, if one could only bottle these stories…In a way we can. It is called writing. The Park Bench is a muse..It inspires.  It is magical.