What do they hide in Hyde Park?

Easter Eggs.

Beer cans.

Princess Di’s diary.

Poop.

Cell phones.

Promises.

Kylie Minogue tickets.

Blood.

Picnic baskets.

Hair.

Paramol.

Pounds.

Teabags.

That one blade of grass that looks like Paul Revere.

Water, more than one kind.

Me.

Footballs.

Hide and Seek.

Crazy Frogs.

Prince Albert.

Coppers.

Mushroom trips.

Piggy-back rides.

A couple of crunks.

Pigeons with stumps.

iPods.

Break-ups.

The sun.

In a hurry or not.

Skinned knees.

HP Sauce.

Used condoms.

Robbers.

Some monuments.

A daughter and her mother chasing each-other around a tree until they both fall down, laughing.

New shoes.

Advice.

Maggots.

Two sitting on a bench, almost touching.

Math teachers.

Someone thinking about Central Park.

A Sunday BBQ with stories about ex-lovers.

A kite, almost off of the ground.

A quarter.

AA members.

Happy Slaps.

Bikes, fast ones and slow.

All kinds of people,

and shit like that.