augury doggerel

Wednesday, March 06, 2002


The roads grow wider, two lanes to four, stop light to roundabout, painted line to guardrails, sidewalk to slopes of unwalkable grass.

The house on the corner where a boy used to play by himself in the front is a square marked in the grass. On the other side of the ring road, a fetal village, a cluster of five brick homes, is gone. Their old trees drop apples on vacant grass and the ghost of a stone road. The dog chained to a circle of mud is gone with the chain and the mud.

One of the cats that used to pop from a shed belonging to the condemned house at the end of our street met me last night on the cobbles. He must have missed the moving truck or been left with the old fridge and cracked windows. He came to my call and dolphined under my palm -- one of those guileless, friendly cats that must never catch mice -- but I can't take him home.


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