Cactus Garden

I feel that something strange could happen here.
I followed the signs to the cactus garden
and sat cross-legged on a bench,
my shoes and bags configured below.
There is not too much light here, just small lamps
placed at the base of the plants along the path.
Every so often, someone new enters the garden.
A male security guard. A female security guard.
A girl, who is with her mother, notices a lizard
on an abandoned cup near me, which I had not.
They circle the garden, then the mother asks me to take
their photo, gesturing repeatedly to raise the brightness
of the image on her phone as she hands it to me.
I try to frame them and the cacti appropriately.
Thank you. The cacti move in the wind. The lizard becomes two.
I’m waiting for something strange to happen
and I’m breathing, trying to become a part of the interim.
As I get up to leave, I turn and see the two guards,
their uniformed intimacy, the orange of their cigarettes.