Auto-infection (114th street)

Here comes a locked-door sedan
some kind of blown-red Infiniti*
and before its wheels an almost dead kid
hoping for a career in false-claims.

Drive carefully;
the insurance season is open
and hunters in their padded overcoats are everywhere,
stumbling with insurance forms
amongst the city’s undergrowth,
every one of them only trying to make a buck.

To see a world in a grain of sand
and a heaven in a wild flower,
hold infinity in the palm of your hand
and eternity in an hour.
-William Blake