across the street they have

removed all the rims from the

fiberglass backboards to dissuade

basketball.

the court looks like a minimalist

exhibit, a perfectly ordered space

of rubber band tension.

across the street to the left, the church

doors are plastered with Covid 19 literature.

there's a makeshift crucifix of branches

fixed to the railing on the frontsteps, swaddled

in a purple robe, and spindly greenery.

there's an inebriated man beating the tree in front

of the church screaming: I'll ******* **** you!!!

he's beating the tree with such force a smokey dust

flies off the large granite stone, every pound laced

by hateful invective spreads with theatrical clarity.

not long after a woman knelt on the steps and prayed.

it was Sunday, today is Monday--almost precedent

setting at the mere mention.