After Griffith J Griffith finished farming ostrich feathers, after he was done grifting land out like watches, after the donation of his leftover land to the city and the inception of the park, after Mr. J Griffith failed to finish his wife off but did succeed in shooting her, after the prison term, the suggestion of an observatory, a Greek amphitheater, a planetarium, a girl’s camp and a boy’s camp, after the city decided, “Hmm, better not get into bed with a man who shot his wife,” after they waited until his death to fund his projects, after trees grew and died, after the smog came as if squeezed out of some djinn’s lamp, b and I watched after a sweaty hike the sun set and the earth calmly turn below.

. .