sure nuf, the very next day they mowed the flowers, they mowed the waterland. mud ruts and piles of dead grass everywhere. idjits. we're livin in a fools paradise called the chicago park district. i almost feel responsible since i blogged about how lovely it was yesterday, the paths turned to duck streams, the wild love-riot of dandelions, the exuberant lush rewards of a drenching spring. i know i precipitate some things, like coolhaus milkshake and fries ice cream, but i doubt the c.p.d. is reading, and i don't think they are on any natural wavelength. i guess it's just another sick bureaucratic city that works sort of blundering.