“The World’s Fair” by Linda Mannheim

God didn't make Flushing; it's all landfill, ashes that the garbage men of Brooklyn dumped on Queens. Rats used to run all over. People who lived in shanties trapped animals here. My grandmother remembers this -- watching trash torch and glow at night across a field. "All of this," she says, looking out at the garden apartments broken up by big brick buildings, "It was garbage once."

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