Immortal Bricks


Underneath the bridge

Old bricks still hold the street

Together, as they did

Inside a younger city.

They’re unaffected by wind

Weather fronts, the rolling

Of heavy tires, the burn

Of the city’s pangs

We had walked

On them as others had… where

Train tracks sliced through

These oldest parts of the city…there

We gazed at the high grass

Growing through the gravel,

The warmer days

Further up

Where numbered streets

Take on more than one digit,

The bricks have given way

To multi-layered streets.

You moved closer,

a few blocks away

As if our bodies’ nearness….

A simple result of city sections

Today, I try not to trip

On potholes, where rain

Seeks the original bricks

Below the higher layers.

I can’t help but feel porous

The emotional bonding element

Passing through me,

Built of abandonment,

I can only blame myself for

That I have always blamed myself for

How long will it be, before

The rain takes me?

I hustle in rain gear just to eat

Back under the bridge

Permeable others have gathered

Like a congregation

Burning wood pallets, collecting

Makeshift tents, car parts

Bike parts…………….part-human

They once lived in the higher numbers

It seems, when their streets

washed away, they were drawn

To the immortal bricks

I am frightened to search

For my face among them

Still the grass grows high

Through the gravel, but

Only upon the last of the hottest days.


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