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”
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