A Park Somewhere in the City, Wee Hours of Mon. Morning, AU Chad and Jazz
Sunday morning the park had appeared as it always had: fresh and green and full of growing things, but by the time the nearest residents had settled in for the night its transformation had begun. The trucks and trailers roared into place and a veritable anthill of human activity swarmed over the grounds. Monstrous metal skeletons rose up to pierce to the sky, tents fluttered into shape, lights flashed and flickered....
The Cirque du RĂªves had come to town.
The residents worked tirelessly, readying for the Monday morning opening.
Not a one of them seemed surprised when the dizzying strobe of red and blue announced the arrival of local law enforcement.
One even, a young dark woman, seemed to have been waiting for it.
She broke away from securing a tent attached to the backside of a truck and moved closer, watching the uniform climb out of his vehicle with the same wary, mistrustful eyes one might see on a feral dog.