a certain man went out on a sunday

for a stroll to escape the four dim walls of his messily empty room. on his stroll, at the place where a dead end street exploded from its isolation into a wide, empty park, he saw a man, head down, pushing a lawnmower on a lawn that could have been covered by the three cars packed beside it in a tiny driveway. the brown grass behind his droning mower was the same height as the brown grass in front.

the wandering man teetered between the empty park and the dead end street. the lawnmower roared on behind him. the park with its bright red slides and yellow monkey bars and blue ladders and green castles and four empty baseball diamonds was eerily quiet in front of him. the lawnmower ground on behind him. a rabbit munched on the grass, near grafitti-covered padlocked bathrooms. the rabbit turned his nose to sniff the air. queen-anne's-lace and thistles and cedar trees turned and rustled in a new-sprung breeze. the scent of coming rain quickened in my nose and the rabbit bounded away as i stepped in.