A sand truck drives down a hill empty,grainy darkness covers the rustand splatters of paint that have adornedthe metallic frame for three decades. An unnoticed Tuesday sunsetbrings the streets to a tired hush,and only the falling sound of pebblesis heard as they tricklefrom the sandy truck bed.As it drives out of sightshadows dart its way and leap upon the cold vertical rails.They hang as the truck speeds aroundthe corner; they laugh.Their rags quietly flutter in the wind,barefoot and proud they look down at the many lights of the hillsthey’ve just conquered.