The cop motions me over to the curb in front of number twenty-two.  He’s a funny-looking creature in a Kevlar shell whose precise movements give the impression he’s still doing drills at the police academy.  He skitters to the car as I roll down the window.

Sorry sir but you have to turn back.

But this is my street.

There’s been an incident.

A TV news van rolls up and the cop smiles and waves it along.  I watch the bulging-eye logo brush past the cop, and looking further up the street I see that my yard has been cordoned off by yellow tape.

Wait a sec’. I open my door and step onto the pavement  That’s my house.  What’s going on?

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It’s a beautiful summer’s day so I go to the park with a book tucked under my arm.  There’s a mature shade tree - a willow - standing near a bend in the creek.  Its branches arch high overhead in a broad canopy and their ends swing low almost sweeping the ground.  I sit close to the trunk and press my back against the bark which is rough and etched with deep lines like the skin of an old man.  The air is hot and still.  Clouds hang motionless in the sky as if someone has pinned paper cutouts to blue Bristol board.  I doze for a while but I can’t say for how long because when I next open my eyes the clouds haven’t changed.  I could have dozed for a minute, I could have dozed for an hour.  Nothing is moving.

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