2 - At the basketball court.
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And I was down at the lot where the school used to
be, before the preppers took it over. The hoops
and backboard in the basketball court are still
there, but the ice and weeds and have broken the
pavement so badly these past three years, and they
stand as high as I do. I remember playing with my
kids here. All the cars keep driving on past the
chain-link, and meanwhile the gnomes are playing
some kind of ball game between the weed stems. I
think they found a little super-ball. I brought a
sandwich to the hill behind it, and I watch them.
As I chew, I'm thinking about how happily they
carry on in the ruins of what we had. And what
does that mean?
A crow swoops down and grabs one of them, kicking
and screaming as it's carried off. The other
gnomes wave their arms and shout for a bit. And
then they go back to their game like it never
happened. My kernel of wistful affection for them,
wrapped in nostalgia as it was, turns to a rancid
seed in a pod of putrescence. I want to throw up.
The cars beyond the fence sound differently to me
now, and the sky feels bigger, looming and
threatening as the open ocean. I leave my sandwich
in the dirt as I get up and leave. The crows will
be back for it soon.
