Blanking

Blanking

Twin Donuts in Allston, around for 70 years,
was recently replaced by Blank Street.
A coffee shop that blanks out color and design.
Aptly named.
Yet they kept the old neon Twin Donuts sign on top.

Many things lately feel like they are being blanked.
Target sells preframed art with creations by AI.
Every car is the same grey and white and black,
such that a yellow car is enough to exclaim to a friend
about seeing a yellow car.
You find a special dining table online, except it’s actually
the same dining table being sold for different prices on fifty different websites.
Even company logos, once so intricate and beautiful
have become so blanked and drab and boring.

The main reason I love vintage is because it cannot be blanked easily.
Someone cared for this solid walnut doctor’s desk for 80 years,
and now everyone that comes to my apartment comments on it.
80 years old, and I still write on it.
I’ve seen dozens of Ikea Alex desks in the dumpster.

Down the road from Twin Donuts is Morris Shoe Repair.
He’s been there for thirty years, and he anachronistically solely takes cash,
and he has no website, and I’m not even sure he has a mobile phone.
Shoes cover his store like clovers grow in grass.
It’s worth it to stop by the ATM.