Here's a lttle something I started writing at Frisbee camp, for your edification.

Here I am, sitting on a park bench, every muscle crying in silent protest, watching the sun set over graffiti-covered dormitories. There's a kind of satisfaction, as if the rays beating down hear and recognize my body's tears, and acknowledge my well-earned right to rest, relaxation, and peace. The others-- (Here I left to go play a round of disc golf)