Daily the cortege of crumpled¹

defunct^{2 cars}

goes by by the lasagna-

layered flatbed

truckload： hardTOP

reverting^{3 to tar4 smudge，}

wax shine antiqued to crusted

winepress smear^5，

windshield battered^{6 to}

intact ice-tint， a rarity

fresh from the Pleistocene.

I like it； privately⁷

I find esthetic⁸

satisfaction in these

ceremonial removals

from the category of

received ideas

to regions where pigeons'

svelte^{9 smoke-velvet}

limousines^{10， taxiing}

in whirligigs， reclaim¹¹

a parking lot，

and the bag-laden

hermit^{12 woman， disencumbered}

of a greater incubus^13，

the crush of unexamined

attitudes， stoutly¹⁴

follows her routine，

mining the mountainsides

of our daily refuse

for artifacts： subversive¹⁵

re-establishing

with each arcane¹⁶

trash-basket dig

the pleasures of the ruined.