A Birth

Between two palm trees I watched the Earth eclipse the moon. Its shadow slid slowly, carefully, partially across, leaving a crescent sliver at the top. As it passed, the moon’s fullness again was revealed. Neighbors gathered on the sidewalk to watch the ceremony. I would learn later a friend’s son was born at that exact moment, 2,700 miles away. I imagined the child’s first view, through the hospital window, of the moon slowly escaping the shadow, and my friend missing it entirely.

No. 165

No Events

Two men in lawn chairs smoke cigars. I smelled them before I saw them.

An older man in his yard, drawing pad across his crossed knees, sketches a tree.

A young guy in sweats and a ribbed tank negotiates a contract on the phone: “15% of gross profits…”

A couple walks their dog in front of me, arguing: “Cassandra said you would text me a photo once you finished in the study.”

A working actor’s support group meets up outside an apartment building. A young woman shows off her new headshot. Another woman approaches the group: “Gracie! Hugs all around!”

A man smokes a cigarette, pacing on the sidewalk beside them.

A pregnant woman walks a dog and eyes me warily.

A man bounces a baby on his knee on the balcony above.

Another man, shrouded by trees, leans over the roof of his building and looks down at the street below.

A woman idling in her car backs up to make room for a sedan exiting a garage. The sedan waits as several vehicles drive past; the streetlight must’ve just changed.

A runner keeps pace and moves around a couple pushing a stroller.

My dog rolls around in the grass beneath a no trespassing sign: “No events may be held in yard without permission of property owner.”

No. 029