City Farmers

A year ago, my neighborhood didn't exist. Google Earth shows it as a dirt lot. What was there, though, were the rice fields, now wedged between highways and apartment blocks.

Now that spring is here, any nice days have people out tending their plots. There might be a bicycle on the street, or a taxi. They kneel in the orange dirt and scrape away the dust and debris that smother their sprouts. They break at noon for noodles. Then work some more.


Their plot may be an acre, or just between the building and the street. They are always bleak. Uninspiring. Spring. I ride my bicycle on this route to work everyday, glad that everyday won't last more than a year. Bleak.