In this peachy dust-blown light
where a vanishing point sees all
the way to the river
here
a single shoe
its tongue talked out
there
a desperate dog
wound ‘round his chain
And right before I turn
toward open sidewalk leading
to your house
the yellow umbilicus
of a telephone
appears
tossed so carelessly
upon a pile
of limp baby clothes
three-legged chairs
old magazines and all the paraphernalia
of a home
that I wonder
what final call
was made
before
the cops came
and threw them out.
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