“Okay. Name some things that you never see in Indianapolis.”
“Um. Skinny adults,” I said. He laughed. “Good. Keep going.”
“Mmm, beaches. Family-owned restaurants. Topography.” “All excellent examples of things we lack. Also, culture.”
“Yeah, we are a bit short on culture,” I said, finally realizing where he was taking me.
“Are we going to the museum?” “In a manner of speaking.” “Oh, are we going to that park or whatever?”
Gus looked a bit deflated. “Yes, we are going to that park or whatever,” he said.
“You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?” “Um, figured what out?” “Nothing.”
There was this park behind the museum where a bunch of artists had made big sculptures.
I’d heard about it but had never visited. We drove past the museum and parked right next to this basketball court
filled with huge blue and red steel arcs that imagined the path of a bouncing ball.
We walked down what passes for a hill in Indianapolis to this clearing where kids were climbing all over this huge oversize skeleton sculpture.
The bones were each about waist high, and the thighbone was longer than me.
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