I thought as I walked: about my bad elbow, about invasive plant life, about getting a tattoo, about who changes the class strata. I thought about writing a book and what I would say. I thought about mushrooms as a metaphor. I thought about circular theology. About how a fetus might explain its womb. About mechanical pollination. I thought about population growth.

I thought about Melville. About how Ishmael was a minor character. I thought about irony. I thought about astronomy. About sun flares. About time and scale. I thought about Japanese baseball players. About American soccer players. About the infield shift and the four-four-two. I thought about meritocracy.

I thought as I walked: about entropy, about idiocy.

I arrived and sat.

I watched as I sat: friends talking, carpet stains, spines of books by writers I didn’t like. I watched young loblolly pines in the ditch through the window. I watched a dog sleep. I watched water rise from a sprinkler.