The Mystery of Shopping Carts
Who knows why shopping carts
gravitate into alleyways,
hump curbs, luxuriate
in rain, and rust to
burnished sandstone shades.
I’ve seen them dance
to inner-city gridlock madrigals —
frantic partners of vagabonds,
suburban leaves evicted
from row-house boulevard trees.
I’ve observed their bent bars,
sensual in sunlit waltzes
with chickadees, playmate
to summer-stained children,
last confidant of the dying homeless.
2 comments:
These are so accomplished and varied in theme and form. Loved to see a Dear Jane letter again clad in piano keys. The Security one is mysterious yet real: we should probably write more poems from work. Will be back to reread. Oh and April is onlytwo months away
I love this. Quirky. Observant.
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