I can tell my $10 bicycle
from the others on the rack,
because it is the only one
with a green leaf in the basket.
I never take it out, not because
it is useful, but because it is green.
Do I love this place? Dust
gathers everywhere, I don’t
know if I remember correctly the difference
between adornment and reality.
Maybe all the skyscrapers I’ve ever seen
were scrubbed fantastically.
At night, when I board the train
I leave my bicycle alone
with the others on the rack.
An ugly gradient of rust
reflecting the beautiful electricity
from the signs around the square.