The kiosk at the lake is out of boats
Tongues point and wag like selfish eastern goats
Stern reinforcements pad and shuffle 'round
The cranes and crows are still. Summer's in town
The pedalos are well behaved
Pedestrians and cyclists too
A tiny hint of state-enslaved
Of course that isn't ever you
Today's the day the dogs and kids parade
Floodlit by fun until relieving shade
A few are pushed and clearly many fly
But none of them are ready for the sky
A hunchback does a little cameo
Expressionless and introverted, slow
To recognise. Is this democracy?
The pedalos are longing for the sea
He pauses in the secret cracking woods
The shade suggested that he really should
The blackcaps shout they do want him there
And still the still won't find the still to share
The padlocks will become abuse
Most precious words of little use
Fish supper sun beer bootle nacht
Quiet pramcontent to stupid reich
A gentle man is bagging up the pine
The vibes are background inconclusive whine
Wheeled oxyboy is dancing back and forth
Tonight the watchman's west prolly not north
Congestion self fulfils a railing floats
A busker guesses almost every note
The revolution's clue's ex BBQ's
Not this one that won't happen til you choose