Much Ado About A Dirty Park Bench Poem by Andy Barrette

I just came to a park bench
where I planned to sit and write.
It looked quite adequate
until it came into the light,
when I discovered that what I asked for
was not quite what I'd get
but, instead, a filthy outdoor seat
covered in cigarettes.
Now I'm thinking second thoughts
about where I should sit.
I could choose to leave this bench
or I could just clean it.
Of course I made the obvious choice
in dealing with this mess:
Why should I be left with cleaning?
So I simply left.

(08/07/09)