The city snow melts, exposing eddies of thawed garbage, soggy cardboard, litter that won't break down in a thousand years, decomposing turds. knotted baggies of dog poop. Why do people collect the poop and leave the bags of poop on the side walk?
If only I could get into my garden allotment where I'm sure crimson rhubarb spears are thrusting up through the earth--belying the dead land--but the gate is still padlocked.
Yesterday I went looking for colour which, admittedly, was plastic and paint and oxidized copper, but even that cheered me in these last dreary days of March.
A fence in sunlight.
An old Xmas wreath.
No lack of graffiti
Copper turns milky blue green as it oxidizes.
And she brought her own colour with her jacket and hat, and matching lipstick, fingernails, earbuds, cell phone.
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