Field Notes From Jean Teague

I sit in my truck
With the windows down
Convinced I am invisible
To the wildlife
That cannot see me
In my blind
Taking field notes
And eating mulitas

A brown boy
In a white suburban park
The only player
On a blue blacktop
Shooting jump shot
After jump shot
Making far fewer
Than he expected

Middle-aged moms
In Lulu tank tops
Herding children
Off their leashes
Walking purposefully
Around a greenway
That is, in truth
An endless loop

A man
In a van
With a dog
In a vest
The wad of baggies
In his hand
Proving which
Is the pet

Two men in muscle shirts
Tattooed, wrists to shoulders
Wearing flat-billed caps
Bearing American flags
Walk together
But not together
Because this
Is America

The retired police cruiser
Sold at auction
To one of the men
Who sits in it now
Parked in the shadow
Of a conspiring maple
Plotting petty crimes
Oblivious to the irony

A white woman
With frizzy hair
Driving a maroon Expedition
With a missing hubcap
Leaves the parking lot
To return to real life
Staring intently down
At her phone