The Border Places
Rusty with life I flee the stainless streets, escaping to the border places, neon blinks through half a sign. Dark wood angles jut and flounder on their way to make up a house. Galvanized garbage can broken on the sidewalk, lid almost covering the mess inside. Loose wires hang over broken grass, holding on in the front-yard dust. Green planks cross-hatch behind the steps, covering the belly of the porch. Inside the floor is still swept clean; There's a curtain instead of a door. Hangman stalks the inside house, waiting for a turn of events. Across the Harlem Meer