Scrap Metal Furniture

[Wjames]

The secret patio
behind Sanagan’s Meat Locker
smelt like fresh cut pine,
and the greenhouse bistro
beside the neighbourhood bridal boutique
bustled with hard-to-find streetwear,
and retro-inspired staples. 

Across the street, local moms
dedicated to the Japanese otona trend
bought unisex shades and muted fabrics
at Daub and Design, while a man in a tuque
smoked pristine status accessories
outside the trendy cafe-slash-menswear-shop
on Ossington.

[aschueler]

I have been struggling through this and I can't quite figure it out all over.

There are parts I quite like but somehow it's missing some flow;  the beginning line is awesome, a secret patio!, but then somehow the rhythm seems to fail.  I might be off myself, though.  I would consider more along the lines of starting with Sanagans Meat locker...

Sanagans Meat Locker hid a secret patio that smelt of freshly cut pine


The rest is a nice set of images I don't understand but enjoy.  It gives me a feeling I get similar to trying to understand Wallace Stevens poetry.

However by the conclusion, I do wonder overall, "But what of it?"

[Wjames]

I have been struggling through this and I can't quite figure it out all over.

There are parts I quite like but somehow it's missing some flow;  the beginning line is awesome, a secret patio!, but then somehow the rhythm seems to fail.  I might be off myself, though.  I would consider more along the lines of starting with Sanagans Meat locker...

Sanagans Meat Locker hid a secret patio that smelt of freshly cut pine


The rest is a nice set of images I don't understand but enjoy.  It gives me a feeling I get similar to trying to understand Wallace Stevens poetry.

However by the conclusion, I do wonder overall, "But what of it?"

This was something of a Burroughs "cut-up" style poem, but I thought about what phrases would go where. There was a magazine on my parents coffee shop which I thought had some incredibly ridiculous prose pieces highlighting various stores in and around Toronto. 

This poem was basically an attack on the magazine, but it made me smile so I decided I might as well work on it a little further to see if something more could come of it. I just used some of the phrases that made me chuckle at their pomposity, and added-in only filler words and phrases like "the", and "across the street". 

I'm not sure if this poem can transmit anything to anyone else, but there's something about it I enjoy.

[Apache]

First of all, your avatar is a great album I want to go listen to. Second of all, I've always loved the Bob Dylan line you have in your signature. 

Anyway, on to the poem! 

The secret patio
behind Sanagan’s Meat Locker
smelt like fresh cut pine,
and the greenhouse bistro I don't really know what this means, but I really like it. 
beside the neighbourhood bridal boutique I think this line would work better either without "neighborhood" or with a shorter word in its place. 
bustled with hard-to-find streetwear, Don't think you need this comma here. Especially since you separate the first three lines from the next with a comma. The comma here makes me feel like the retro-inspired staples are disconnected from the streetwear, but my impression is that you are saying the store sells both. 
and retro-inspired staples. 

Across the street, local moms
dedicated to the Japanese otona trend The word "dedicated" seems to me to be a bit awkward here. I think "devoted" would sound better, giving you a little assonance with "otona". I'd consider removing "Japanese" too, because I think otona speaks for itself. It's not like there's a Portuguese otona that people will think of instead when they read this. 
bought unisex shades and muted fabrics
at Daub and Design, while a man in a tuque I had to google tuque. Had no idea that was the word for that type of cap. So now I'm happy I have a new word to use!
smoked pristine status accessories
outside the trendy cafe-slash-menswear-shop I like writing out slash there instead of using a slash, even though it makes the line a bit long. 
on Ossington.

All in all, I rather like it. I feel like it might be missing something, maybe another stanza or another line somewhere to make it a bit more meaningful to people that haven't read that magazine that you have. But I really like what you have so far, it feels to me like a nice little light parody of the sort of trendy hipster-yuppie aesthetic that's become so popular these days in many cities.

[REW]

The secret patio
behind Sanagan’s Meat Locker
smelt like fresh cut pine,
and the greenhouse bistro
beside the neighbourhood bridal boutique
bustled with hard-to-find streetwear,
and retro-inspired staples. 

Across the street, local moms
dedicated to the Japanese otona trend
bought unisex shades and muted fabrics
at Daub and Design, while a man in a tuque
smoked pristine status accessories
outside the trendy cafe-slash-menswear-shop
on Ossington.

I am intrigued by the hidden/secret patio behind the meat locker, but I am not sure what that has to do with the poem other than paint a scene.  I enjoyed this for having vividly painted a scene of which I am unfamiliar.  I think the poem falls short in delivering a message though.  For me it is not clear what you are conveying by describing this scene other than describe.  So my recommendation would be to build on this, add a bit more to leave the reader something to chew on.  I also am not clear what the title, "Scrap Metal Furniture" has to do with the scene in the poem and perhaps you would like to make that more clear.  Basically I think you have something here that can be molded a bit more and built into something meaningful.

I saw mention in a comment about ridiculing a magazine...if that is the case it isn't really clear to me and if it was more clear, then I think you would have the meaningfulness that it is currently a little lacking.

[Mcfair]

I love the vivid imagery - the first three lines especially draw the reader in right from the get-go, and the "trendy café-slash-menswear-shop" is superb.  The rhythm, pace and tempo are likewise great, no nits here.  But, it feels unfinished, incomplete and has no discernable connection with the title.  It needs something to tie it all together.  This really is my kind of poem, for sure - loved it.