A few days ago, in the early morning, as I held my newborn son, I happened to look out the window to see a man and his adult son each cut a mature agave attenuata from the succulent forest out front of the next door apartment building. Flora in hand, the men ran, guiltily, to their idling truck. They nestled the poached agaves amid landscaper tools and sped off. How strange to witness so small a crime, and how normal to wonder, Would I have done it too? My son stared intensely at the window frame, the delicious chiaroschurro.