Meat & Fur
Sun’s Set
The back yard on a cliff, beneath the three porches that rise heavenward. The kind of porch a stout pooch can lay himself onto and bask in the glow of a string light.
My dwelling by contrast is without yard in the extreme. Bricks literally abut the property line, separated from the common sidewalk by perhaps a sliver of mortar. No flower boxes, no rooftop access to greenify, nada.
Looking far enough out, assuming my general trajectory stays the course (averaging out whatever surges or sequesters arise), I can have either. I will by the law of the land and by the thin layer of free will that rests in that space between my ears be able to acquire, or contractually arrange, to have the yard or not.
Anywhere.
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