Lovely little day. Sun shining bright.
Children all a’racing just as fast as they might.
Nannies out smoking; daddies out, too.
Doggies chasing squirrels and then doing the doo.
Families are grilling; sizzling the meats.
Veggies roasting too: smells like burning feets.
Creepy old guy, leaning on a bench.
Holding some loose screws. Twisting on a wrench.

Creepy old guy just sitting out there.
Creepy old guy twirling his hair.
His left hand circling, constantly fluttering,
creepy old guy always muttering.

He keeps to himself, that creepy old guy
but the kids tend to notice and they start to give the eye.
While keeping certain distance, the children play around,
happy to enjoy the live new toy that they’ve found.
The old dude takes no notice, still muttering to the air
as the juveniles are closing in the circle as they dare
to throw things at the wayward oldster who starts taking note and then shouts at all the whippersnappers. That’s all she wrote!

Creepy old guy, screaming at young girls
and boys too, he’s non-binary in epithets he hurls.
The mothers and the fathers and the nannies run to see
the old guy in the park acting crazily creepy!

A circle stays around him: force field periphery.
No one wants to get close enough to see
the whites of his eyes since with reciprocity
he’d be close enough to strike and then make things messy.
So the families pull their children away
and the creepy old guy lives to grunt another day
and the kids learn a lesson on that sunny fun Sunday:
but I didn’t go home with them, so that lesson? I can’t say.

And that creepy old dude just stayed in the park
doing all the stuff that creepy guys do after dark.
He’s got a story, maybe. He’s somebody’s son.
Possibly a reason for the creepy things he’s done.
Maybe he’s not creepy. Maybe he’s just rude.
Possibly he’s drunk. Wait! was he nude?

Creepy old guy. Really weird to see him.
Maybe he’ll get mummified and put in a museum.
Creepy old guy. I’m not sure where this should end.
If you know a creepy guy, would you call him your friend?