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Newbury Street

Robert Castagna

We enter from the green flowered lawns of Boston Public Garden

To a red rock canyon where squares of sunlight multiply on top-floor apartments The street a flash flood of tourists in high heels for hiking—brownstone steps The sounds of jackhammers shake up senses—shopping sidewalks shaking! Mannequins in sequined dress, jeweled diamonds around velvet necks

Purses over rigid shoulders, reflections of sky over security guards staring At phones hour after hour! Stopped clock-face on the church tower! We forget what time it is And jaywalk to find the sun and feel the heat reflect off the walls of Giorgio Armani Handbags & matching belts, beauty parlors in suggestive windows—shadow people Aloof behind cash registers, chic iPads & credit card taps—but look who’s buying! Rag & Bone, Cartier stones, art galleries, high-end salaries—new styles in ceaseless production! People-watching eyes hide behind sunglasses and the shade from corporate umbrellas Coca-Cola, cocktails and fufu sodas just before we hitch a ride at Hynes Auditorium—but wait! Hidden among the storefronts of fashion, a bookstore where breakfast is served all day! Trident Booksellers & Cafe! No mannequins on display so our imaginations run to the margins Typed-out pages of invisible people adorned with only language, otherwise naked!

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