One
morning I cut down a
nuisance sapling and pulled a couple of tall, ugly weeds in the
alley. Then a guy
came by, pulled out a piece of cardboard from between the trash
cans, and made himself at home where the weeds had been. Looked like he
needed an hour or so to regain some of his senses. I didn't mind much—a lot of people
walk by there on Saturdays to go to the farmer's market, but they
can just
ignore him, which they did. But after he collected the remains of his shattered psyche and metabolized enough of
the sunshine pounding in his veins to get on his feet and move
on, he left the box
there.
Such a tiny thing, I'm ashamed I gave it
any
thought.
