Look, I am not gentle. Look, the boy at the lake threw away the sandbag propping up the sign Warning Thin Ice Stay Off Lake while I was looking, wrestled it up and let it go it over the lip of the trash can, then lifted his arms in an aggressive shrug, like he wanted to fight, or scare me. He was probably ten, to be clear. I was with my two toddlers. What, he yelled to me across the sand pit of spring animals, and I said nothing. What, he said. My face was a stone. I pushed my children on the swings. On the way home, we passed a pair of crutches propping up a tree in someone’s yard. Beside it, a piece of driftwood worn into a huge pencil or javelin was planted in the dirt like a trunk and encircled with rocks, a gesture which, I learned from our local Lawns to Legumes Program, signals to your neighbors your intentions. Look, even I know a lost cause when I see one. Careful. When you look, then you’ll have to pay us.