D.O.P.-T.

[weofodthignen]

Down the road on my way to and from the bus stop there was a wide, low house with green trim, nondescript except that it was set back from the road behind a large front yard that used to be shaded by at least two trees, under which two oldfashioned metal and wood garden chairs were set about with potted plants and dense shrubs like a jungle by le douanier Rousseau. But after ambulances came for the old couple several times, one of the trees was felled and all the shrubs removed, and potted geraniums were set up on the stump and on the ground and bedding flowers planted in front of the white rail fence. Then one day the house was for sale, described as having all the value in the land. Apparently someone had subdivided the living room to make an extra bedroom and that would have to be reversed. Eventually it sold, and the garage, by now defaced with graffiti sigils, was torn down. But the house was apparently rented, to a series of young couples, some with children, who tried unsuccessfully to keep those bedding flowers alive; every dog peed on them. The other tree first had a branch amputated, then was also removed, leaving an expanse of bare earth with a single clump of white geranium roughly in the middle. Then the last family was gone and on Monday's holiday a Bobcat bulldozer and an earthmover tore the fence-posts out of the ground, pushed the fence open, and were left in the front yard. I took a sprig from the geranium - maybe I can get it to root. This morning, the house is a heap of trash wood. As I walked on past, drops of rain slowly began to fall.