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Gerald McCarthySeptember 30, 2021

This man, this woman
           are the city—
           the child’s toys
stuffed
in a cardboard box—
           sagging at the edges,
and a blue tricycle
one handlebar
           askew, its flag of
           colored plastic streamers
lifted by the rush
           of passing cars—
a three-legged table, car tires
stacked like lopsided
           dishes—
        and two black and whites
parked
back to back
      along the curb—
one with its amber light
           flashing.

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