1/5/12
third and jefferson
razor wire, brick, and concrete
Hold jack London's ghost
In a stiff embrace
Streetlights form
A sad parade
A spotlight for broken bottles
Rust attaches itself
To door handles and chain link
desperate, slow
I'm here early again
Waiting for the people
To spill down the street
Like an upturned toy box
I watch them line outside
And wonder who will be left behind.
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