There are streets like this everywhere now:
Six lanes, forests of tall signs, motels,
Cheeseburgers, auto parts,
Moist air thick, redolent of exhaust and French fries.
Narrow sidewalks do not expect foot traffic,
Those who use them, threatened, resented,
See up close things other pass in haste:
Where ashtrays have been emptied,
A failed fast food franchise, off-brand,
Demolished and vanished in a day,
A street where you cannot remember what used to be there.
Look, a break in the curbing, a driveway entrance, one car wide:
People must have lived here once.

Magi on the Internet

They had met in a chat room:
Coy small talk into amorous protest
With the click of a mouse.
But now she posts at auction
The antique vase he bought her,
Its blue-green finish crazed in journeys
From dealer to collector and back.
He notices the listing
But not the lister,
And so again he places love's winning bid,
His heart bouncing as if caught
Between autoreplies.

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