Page 11

The poem reduces loyalty to a hard rule: honor the first commitment and do not split yourself between two people.

The opening contrast between a garden and a crowded avenue removes setting as an excuse, because the rule applies anywhere. Promise is treated as singular and binding rather than flexible. The short lines make the statement sound like a stern personal ethic rather than a meditation.

Under the all-caps heading 'I DON'T CARE IF ITS A GARDEN / OR A CROWDED AVENUE', three typed lines lay down a rule: 'You never promise two people / You deal with the first person / No matter what comes up..'.

The heading sweeps aside place as an excuse, whether the setting is private and pleasant or public and crowded, and the body answers with a flat code of loyalty. The short declaratives sound like advice passed down from experience, perhaps from the street or the trade. The doubled period at the end adds a small, stubborn emphasis to the rule.