Taking Ground

I didn't stay up on that top porch step. I took those wooden stairs two planks at a time and dropped straight down to the red brick border at the bottom. The gravel crunching under my boots sounded like steel chairs slamming. Right in front of me, an empty aluminum soda can was wedged under a dry pinecone. Junk, but it had weight. I pulled that hooked paperclip from my waistband, hooked the rim, and hauled it upright into the dirt. A hollow clang rattled through the yard. That's my perimeter marker now. Anything stepping into this dirt knows who owns the yard.