The American Red Cross hall stands
                          condemned
black and yellow signs taped to its doors
as if the iron ball lurked around the corner
This place has lost its race with time
This place
                         darkened
shadowed by rising shining hospitals
awaits its fate in the cold below
                          Nearby
bundled men sleep in doorways
equally dark
equally lost
equally cold
or standing at highway exits
their box flap signs
scrawled with pleas
as drivers stare straight
evading their secondhand faces
They are the new republic
forgotten as the Red Cross hall
their amnesic America laid bare
Their notices have been given