It's part of the Geary Street drama, the cardboard recyclers.
Accordion on wheels
the cardboard truck
turns on Anza and moves up 21st
Flying fingers of cardboard man
and brittle brown wife weave dry stacks
in horizontal layers–their mesa
grows skyward as seamless day ascends
and light slants --
and soft fog bellows from Ocean Beach.
The load groans toward Geary,
hovers at the crosswalk,
bent woman, piercings, baby backpack
a short processional moves by
he watches, flint-faced, then leans,
strikes blindly toward the seat beside him
and
celebrates sunset
by lighting up.
