I thought I'd never noticed the baby footprint in the sidewalk and then I thought I probably had and forgot, though I noticed the word PEACE written on the sidewalk by the park and years later I notice more peace signs and words along the same stretch. I wonder how old that baby is. The date is vague, two thousand something, maybe seven. The baby is full grown, maybe living in the house behind the baby footprint. I'm resting my back, and missing the last outdoor farmer's market. I'm just talking, don't mind me. I went with Lulu to a friend's place whose boxer died and she knocked over a juice. We talked about how technology was a convenient trap for us now trapped in the use that's been made of us and the rest of the planet. We've surely passed a red line or a tipping point, crossed the event horizon, something else we don't get, can't quite fathom, we're in it but somehow not of it, in the echo of our wildness, trapped. We want to ask forgiveness, we want to ask mercy, we want to ask why society has convinced us we have to kill to live.