In the middle of the second major heatwave of the season, the City cut the wildflowers along the footpath.  I mean they cut everything 30 inches on either side of the pavement, but since the flowers were my friends, all I saw was that they cut the flowers, even though they actually mowed indiscriminately.  And it must have been a chore for the labourer in this heat, so his feet were heavy when he made hay of the prettiest parts of the Summer.  But I can't get to that right now; I'm still reeling from the loss of chicory, and the other pinks and yellows and blues whose names I was just beginning to learn. "Program, get your program", I heard the barker call on my way to the bleachers.  I turned once and caught his eye, and looked at the program in his hand and back into his eyes--all the while his eyes following mine--but then he looked back to his hand, and again into my eyes and he said "You can't tell the player without a card"! Did it matter that ...