this domestic round, this
wheel of fortune ever turning she
surveys as storefronts, empty
one by one, the signs, hand-
lettered or printed appear
the brisk walk on the broad
boulevard, the double-parked
rushing in for their laundry, the
vegetable delivery from a
green van, the sidewalks
open up to receive this bounty
as stroller-wielding mothers amble
to the park, wheels clicking over
interruptions in the sidewalk,
the cracks in the map, the
veins spelling out yes, you are
here, here, and nowhere else
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