a tree

cole pointed out the tree first, but not really pointed out. We were trying to avoid the workers blocking the main path. Stacks of trimmed off branches. She swerved off to the side, over to a patch of muddy, trodden-on grass hidden beside the faded yellow wall of the Chinese division building. Where are you going? But she stopped her bike, and I sat on mine, with one foot resting on the ground to balance myself.

One tree lay on its side, roots bound, still waiting. Another was newly planted. It was skinny, maybe five inches wide. Halfway up its trunk was a coat of white paint, like all of the other trees. A forest of neat, evenly spaced, white-painted trees. Its limbs were bare. Just a few branches here and there. Fifteen or sixteen feet tall. There was a sign on it, for Anny, and flowers gathered around.

I need to find some of my stickers, is what I said. The ones I used for their tests. I brought them from home, and found others here. The ladybugs stickers were the ones I used the most.

Then we left and rode towards the North Gate. The grass is really green, I told cole. And we can't walk on it, she said.

We took the 973 bus to South Station and had lunch. Fried dumplings and curry rice.

When we got back, I couldn't figure out where to put the sticker.