Tiny

So it’s gone. The one place I could walk the dog in the city without a leash. The one place I could stand in relative silence and look at the stars or the moon, the flashing lights on the jets. The one place where the rabbits might run past me as I moved through the caliche flats. Gone. Covered up with tiny homes, tiny lawns, tiny fences and tiny for-sale signs. Soon to be bought by tiny people for tiny sums. I feel small now too. Compressed. Depressed. The dog is bigger, though.