As enthusiasm reigned, it began to wane. Old doubts arose anew, insinuating new vagaries into worn fallacies, fresh rot into each crevice of every wooden fence built to hedge against excuses long dormant, now revived, each cockeyed picket straying from the line, casting incongruities over a city’s mixed-modern menagerie: a playground, for example, where feral cats starve, romping away their last days caterwauling and scratching through a kiddie-less milieu of sandboxes gone, at last, to scat, hard shit cradled in wild paw prints hard pressed into soft sand.
-- Richard T. Rauch lives along Bayou Lacombe in southeast Louisiana. He is part of a tenacious team of NASA engineers and scientists dedicated to sending human explorers back to the moon and on to Mars, and maybe someday (preferably sooner rather than later), out beyond Mars, too! Rick’s poetry credits include: Burningword, Confrontation, Crack the Spine, decomP, Euphony, Grey Sparrow, The Oxford American, Pembroke Magazine, Wild Violet, and the anthologies Love Notes (Vagabondage Press) and Down to the Dark River: Contemporary Poems about the Mississippi River (Louisiana Literature Press).