Sunday, October 13, 2013

The Fruit of Trespass



I think these are signs left over from Sandy.


While I planned a beach head incursion, I was surprised to find the side gate wide open. I walked swiftly doing my best invisible. When I arrived at the garden I felt quite exposed, partly because of the removal of the olive shrub near our plot. I expected someone to exit any of the houses within eye shot, sounding the alarm, black SUVs screeching to a sideways halt, handguns drawn. Freeze muthafucka, you're in violation of the will of the Congress of the United States of America!

The doors never opened. It was quiet and balmy, even the geese were sedate. I picked my peppers, lamented the hundreds of lost fruits across the gardens, and checked my saffron crocus (they were not ready). I pulled a few weeds and then headed back toward the gate. As I did an older couple entered, walking their dog. 


These are the peppers of trespass.


Near the gate, a peculiar goat.


I headed for the beach despite the signs admonishing that choice. Bicyclists and runners, a few, came and went. The waters were rough, an extratropical system to the south.


Here, the fence, to keep people off the dune-less shore. Then, a large black SUV sprung from nowhere, stopping short before the sand. I stood doing my best invisible. Then I turned and walked away as an old man approached. I turned to see if the SUV ejected some authoritative gesture toward him, but no, nothing.


The government of NO. 



*Update* I well suppose we're again open for business.

No comments:

Post a Comment