Sits not on a foundation. Remember that city?
The one known for its lobster, for its annual parade
and 5K and not much else, the city tired of its hunt,
brushed away to the back pages of the poet's
biography, though it permeates his work:
the factories, the strip malls, that moment in the eighties
when the Rainbow Room spread wide its doors,
howled like San Fran in the rainy months,
the constant birdsong, the cough of winter.
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