Our Neighborhood

Seven o’clock.

Aesop is still very tired from yesterday, when he had to wait in the backyard until our work was done. It’s been drizzling off and on; I took my umbrella to the store with me at the first light of day. Now it’s gray and overcast and kind of blah, though it’s warmer than usual and I can hear human activity even this early. Michelle said that a New Yorker hit the lottery jackpot and I said good for them while I scanned the macaroni salads in the deli cooler. By the way, yesterday, Gloria really enjoyed the kiwi strawberry Snapple I got for her. Before this Sunday I have to buy a broom at Bi Mart. Might as well get a dustpan while I’m at it… I don’t really have any abstract notions to express today. Perhaps at the bottom of it there are no abstractions, no big questions; only the details we’re given to work with. These ought to be enough for people. Aesop looks at me inquiringly for his breakfast, so I tell him 58 minutes. Then he gets up and drinks his water. Presently it begins to rain gently. A train horn makes a mournful sound, like the song of a humpback whale that carries underwater for miles. I left my umbrella propped up against the side of the house outdoors. In this neighborhood, no one would think to steal it. 


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