2 - At the basketball court.
joneworlds@mailbox.org

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.