December 29, 2007
I try to imagine the story his father told of the talking telephone poles. When the pole outside my door, the one that could have warned us when a man had broken into our car, the one that has had so many stapled lost cat and community announcements stapled to its worn and slowly decaying belly that the metal must be part of what holds it up. This pole has been prodded and inspected and mounted for cable and telephone and electricity men who occasionally make things worse. With a view of the big street, it has seen the cars.