You'd never know that this bench sits on the edge of a bank parking lot, thirty feet from a very busy street. Walking home from the bus stop on a gray, drizzly day, I grabbed my camera and trotted back down there, enamored with the way that the bench seemed about to be overtaken by the raindrop-clad grass. Two days later, the grass had been shorn down. Now the bench looks lonely and exposed. The remaining foot-high patches look like a series of 1950's-style brush cuts on blond heads, buried in the mulch.