in the window-shop, something like
a pair of gloves, maybe, feels
abandoned. To identify it passing-
by, in the cold morning breeze is
not as difficult as one might think
however, the plastic orange under
the bridge reminds me of home; the
pipes are long but can be tall with the
application of heat and the pulling
of each end, not by horses, or anything
of that harsh sort. I have also identified
a red bike, now staring at me from out-
side, as I stare back at it behind window-
panes in the shop, contemplating abandon.