“It Once Was A Parking Lot Playground”


rustred razor ridges

rank-on-rank pile hurricane

flotsam, jetsam here.*

 

  • (The formerly open park and hoped-for middle school student pickup point across the school’s street, complete with a pair of crossing guards to face the blinker-threatened twenty-mile-per-hour slowed four-lane federal highway, used to host pickup baseball, football, cricket and other team games and golf driving and frisbee playing and dog chasing days and now at one end is a massive stormwater renewal project for down below-the-hill old city historic – hysteric say I – streets with the looming soon – we all hope – to be filled hurricane detritus-filled space to remove from residential and business traces the flower of 11 long years without a tropical storm or hurricane to denude our many varied canopies of Like Oaks and other Quercus species among many others so it just looks more devastatingly deforested than really it is.  But it all is fenced off with newfangled orange day-glow mesh and threat-signs warding casual dumpers not here noway nohow! $500 fine if you scofflaw.  And the community garden is all but blocked off from access.  Governor Rick Scott, echoing President Donald Trump: we gotta get this stuff picked up since we’re a tourist state and we gotta look good.  Pray none drive U. S. Highway 17-92 through beautiful battered downtown Sanford, Florida.  Or. Pray they do.)

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