Twigs stick out of industrial fans
collected on the property.
They are all completely corroded
and cannot spin.
Our time is thin like plastic wrap
holding together a wad of money
that looks too new to spend.
A mask in the likeness of a giraffe
goes face to face with the camera
in the cash dispenser, and no one
walking by asks any questions.
Certain names out here get retired
like sports jerseys. If the wrong
person hears you mention one
a breaking bottle is the first
sound that will echo from the alley.
As time moves on the telephone wires
will do less and less for us until
they are finally harvested
and melted down into whatever
the next thing is that spreads
the world around in ways
we can’t control.

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