Alleys - Poem by Hans Ostrom
An alley never concerns itself. An
alley always concerns the social
geometry that shapes it—a pompous
boulevard’s way of saying
alleys will gladly be whatever cities
want ‘em to be. I’ve never met
an alley, though, that didn’t have something
to say about disappointment. An alley’s
often a lane with a rap-sheet, or
a refugee-camp for shadows. Once
I knew an alley that would get drunk
and boast that it used to be a highway.
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