They shouldn't have cared, because in
Coca-Cola blind we have the unmistakable red
of songs for someone
that lovers can thin-slice
while in the flesh.

— Erasure poem from Malcom Gladwell’s “Blink”


Ladder Trucks on 42nd

Every ladder in New York infects my street.
Their hoses slop,
fat white snakes on dusted concrete

and spraying water shimmers back the Morse of rooftop lights.

On the stairs I meet a fireman,
and his eyes dream
of burning.