Salvage


Daily the cortege of crumpled
Defunct cars
Goes by by the lasagna-
Layered flatbed
Truckload: hardtop

Reverting to tar smudge,
Wax shine antiqued to crusted
Winepress smear,
Windshield battered to
Intact ice-tint, a rarity

Fresh from the Pleistocene.
I like it; privately
I find esthetic
Satisfaction in these
Ceremonial removals

From the category of
Received ideas
To regions where pigeons’
Svelte smoke-velvet
Limousines, taxiing

In whirligigs, reclaim
A parking lot,
And the bag-laden
Hermit woman, disencumbered
Of a greater incubus,

The crush of unexamined
Attitudes, stoutly
Follows her routine,
Mining the mountainsides
Of our daily refuse

For artifacts: subversive
Re-establishing
With each arcane
Trash-basket dig
The pleasures of the ruined.


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Salvage