see how the light hits the fences at dusk? that’s the least violent act in the world. little kids laughing, chasing each other in circles through the streets. chalk sticks on sidewalks. mothers at clotheslines. televisions unattended as the laugh track plays. always that one guy who laughs so long he keeps people from talking, but no director’s ever thought to cut him short. across town, some people stand sideways, bagging groceries. some stand tearing kitty litter coupons from the paper. others yet sit on split-level doorsteps, waiting for salvation, as though august light could hit a human being with intent to harm.