At night the neighbors dogs bark across a tall concrete wall, over barbed wire. It’s like a card game, Spit or War, slapping down barks in wild and vigorous succession. Wind churns though the open windows and the blinds clack but I hear poker chips spill across a felted table instead. The fans are a constant breath, always quietly exhaling. Hard leaves flutter outside like shells on the beach in turbulent surf. Everything only quips in this evening dialogue. The men in the yard next door give up a game of dominoes and tiles clatter to the table. The room is grey and yellow in the almost-dark. With open eyes I think of the ocean, reflecting flashes of fireworks that spotted a clouded sky in the early evening today. With closed eyes I can only see faces and photographs. A stray cat, lithe and curious, sat on my windowsill while I ate dinner. Now only one dog barks. It is a busy night tonight.