Williamsburg Road

urban weeds

East of the city,
there are tall pines standing
scant and sentry, as if they knew
this were the road to the ocean.

Amid dandelioned lawns
and asphalt wasteland, gas
is cheaper, repair shops
like mushrooms:

frequent and lightly
unsavory. On Sundays
at the carwash,
every concrete cave

is full, as though
we could siphon
off the week’s sins
with high-suction

hoses; April
has always been
a month for pollen
and repentance.

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