(C)ertain (P)ress

And they beckon
from their red plastic cages,
emboldened words and
colorful photographs—
begging as you go,
the hailing taxis or
the pothole-dodging bikers
and bouncing-stride
stepping pedestrians;
sometimes there is barely a thesis,
sometimes a brain fart,
sometimes a proclamation
as if the ten commandments
from God to Moses, still,
perhaps what we could simply
text and forget;
always the idea of gains
in money, though,
the purpose: profit, something
that comes in by trash ads,
not by dicey articles,
not by thought-provoking content,
in the back, paid for so that
freebie mags—these city pages,
can remain intact
and still forget to implement:
Meaning,
Reason,
Purpose.
Straight to the press!

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