High Seat in the Lane

Drifted down the service lane behind the old diner around mid-afternoon. Wedged between two idle grease barrels, an old wire shopping cart was sitting tilted against the curb, rear wheels locked tight. Ladder ready to go. I scaled the side grid rung by rung, boots catching easy traction on the zinc wire. Up top, the fold-out plastic toddler flap was jammed crooked in the frame. Didn't force it. One measured stomp with the flat heel of my boot popped the hinge flat and locked it flush. Dropped into the seat, propped my boots against the wire rim, and crossed my arms. Best watchtower on the block.