January 1970
Yesterday, walking home from work
I walked through a patch of grass on the curb in front of the gas station. As I watched my feet take step after step through the foliage, I came across a discarded cup Half open, with ice spilled into a small pile resting gently, slowly melting in the grass. As I walked closer to the cubes of ice, something urged me to kick them. I watched my right foot swing, almost in slow motion, the very...
