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Stage 1 In this stretch from Melrose to Monroe: a Yoshinoya, Papa's John's Pizza, McDonald's, Que Rico, Golfo de Fonseca with its pupusas poderosas, the international food court readies its wares for a hungry college-bound crowd, beckoning, step out of the rain, step into salt, oil, vinegar, soy sauce, onions, and garlic mixed in the pot called global capital. Stage 2 The evacuation boats arrive early at the Braille Institute. Public sensitivities for once seeking the less fortunate before themselves. Police boats from the Marina and from the port made their way quickly up Vermont itself. When they arrive the campus is empty, doors swing open at the force of swat team commando kicks only to reveal floating closed-circuit tvs and pamphlets about macular degeneration. There are no blind students anywhere in the low, flat Aztec looking structure. They have all gone away, some weeks ago because although they could not see, they had been listening. Stage 3 Notebooks doused with ink, marinated text books, floating folders, submerged folders fromCity College have flown out into the street, the dream of the bright ripe grove of California higher education now compost rinds in the streets. As the last drops fall, the tick tock of a stick on pavement, a red-tipped white cane comes to stop on a pant leg, a body bloated and untended. But the blind man reaches down and lifts up a laminated flyer. In letters he cannot read, lay the words, "Our Hope Lives in God." -- MCM