(title)
Alexander Bookstore: Second Street,
Near Market, Downtown, San Francisco
(poem)
The fire escapes me. Bricks
Are my pasture. A burnt pink
Is my memory. Stable I stand
Already witness to one century.
Books fill half my floors. Characters
Off the street pick them off my shelves.
I sustain myself upon their sale.
When I look out, vanilla bricks
Rise one wall above. A cornice
Is black. Today is a blue sky.
The architecture its clear
Articulation buildings in
Utter profile astonish me.
Stephen Vincent
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