with the air, her gravelly southern twang
asking "you remember Phylis Dillar
or Flip Wilson?" No one remembers
or even pretends.
People in the garden sit on the grass,
pull pieces of a sandwich out of a brown paper bag,
read books, and sip coffee until a voice dances
down the ramp, over the water and in the grass;
it skips like a child, but with a diva's
confidence and sings, "I was standing all alone
A man with a sandwich looks up to see
the woman who had spoken with the gravelly voice
now singing to a steel and glass structure,
and no one else is listening
or pretending to hear.