A sign fragment in a window catches my eye: Warning without the “NG” The small grey cat has had her kittens, her belly was heavy three days ago as she used the soft, cool, moist tilled earth in the garden to support it. She would not eat that day either. Today she ate the canned mackerel I got from the Fine Fare. Where are her kittens?

I have walked around the neighborhood, one step up from favelas, in some places. A whole row house is taken down and remains as rubble between extant neighboring addresses. Particle plywood forms fences, windows, doors and patches on places. People are out on porches, on sidewalks with children of tender ages, on the playground basketball court. Someone has left a mug with hearts and flowers on it in the street a foot from the curb. I move it onto the sidewalk. The writing on it is You’re Special. A pair of neighborhood gardens have been started, it seems like beans are coming up along s couple of rows. I pick up bottle caps and juice boxes and odd metal. A Hannah Montana star lay outside the Chinese cookery. A row of well-kept black and white houses stood out. A sign at Lauers Park informs of the June 2 plant sale. Find in an alley a discarded CD hand marked Season of the Witch.


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