I went, but I learned later I didn’t go alone. Charlotte tailed me, which of course she would not have been able to do if I had Pippi with me, but I didn’t, because Pippi would have complicated my vandalism.

Charlotte learned where I live, and now I’ll probably feel a little bit stalked, especially when my curbside recycling is disrupted more than my neighbors’, or when my newspaper isn’t where it should be, or when my garden sustains a little damage and there wasn’t any weather to account for it.

I’d get me a bright light and start lurking in my own windows except it won’t happen often enough. I hope I have better things to do.

Anyway, that’s not the worst of what I brought on. For Charlotte ran her own search, about me. She’s still friendly with her ex’s sister, and Norah knows Pat, who used to be with Christy, who actually roomed with Libby for a year in college. (These links appear at near light speed.)

Now Libby has met Charlotte, and liked her. Now Libby wants me to call her Eli, and she wants me to like Charlotte, and I’m not sure I can do either. The additional clues about Charlotte – that she only reads or sees what The New Yorker advises her to read or see, that even with her front yard she considers herself a gardener – haven’t uncurled my toes.

What goes around comes around, they say here and elsewhere. The next time I see crazy signs, I’ll know I’m supposed to honor the absent perpetrator for expressing opinions in a way most of us wouldn’t. I’ll remember that I should smile and just continue on my way.

But I’ll fail. The truth is, I can’t bear Charlotte’s kind of hostility. I can get used to her as Libby-Eli’s mate I guess (she’s no worse than some of my cousins), but I’m not going to ignore barbaric yard signs or assertive front fences.

I want a Red Balloon ending. I always loved that book – about a boy who loses his friend the balloon to a gang of rock-armed bullies, and who then receives condolence and adventure from all the balloons in Paris.

I’ve considered the bathroom idea again – could I gather dogs to Charlotte’s parkway if I anoint it with a lot of pee? But again: too much work; no fun; not positive. I need the gathering to be people. I need social coercion. I have to come up with more signs and beguile others into the game.

Limericks present signage problems. But epigrams may work:

Here lies a lawn that struggles to be free
Of your dog’s shit and your discourtesy

This lawn is grown for landscape. Don’t assume
It’s purpose is to be your dog’s bathroom

We love your purebreds and your mutts
But not the product of their butts

NO
POOP