No tents in Santa Cruz

90 uniformed law enforcers, black clothes, riot masks, spray canisters, sticks, enforcers gathered from the contiguous counties to augment the locals surrounded the remnants of the outdoor occupiers, chased away most, arrested some, dismantled and hosed down the camp. Some were ready to go. Around the corner bedrolls and gear filled the back seats and up over the rear window or a few sedans and vans, old plates, new plates, out of state plates. The next night 50 walked with purpose and rhythm across Water St to the jail, through the jail driveways, their noise protest drumming and clanging. By Blaine St, as I leaned against the rock and cement retaining wall, I could feel the strumming on the metal pickets in the tremble of the rocks themselves, A full moon watched.