We sat out on the planting terrace to watch the moon last night. Clouds covered it most of the time. When it came out there was a misshapen smudge on its face, but its edge was sharp and bright. Down on the sidewalk, a woman stood still at the wall of the park. I wondered whether she was looking at it too, contemplating the wonder of this celestial event that won’t occur again until we’re all retired or worse. Then she turned around and I could see that she was on the phone. Oblivious. She’d absentmindedly strolled out of earshot of pedestrians to get a little privacy while she was breaking up with her boyfriend or talking to her senile mom or telling her kid to do his homework, mommy’s gonna be late. Never even noticing the blood moon up above.