Brick and Mortar


Crimson brick building wall,
you watch the city scream
before it lies awake in distant dream,
going in and out of hazy words from a faraway phone call.

Strung-together plastic coated wire,
you illuminate bulbs that brighten the city,
more rather the window that gazes out in pity
onto a world that ignores your efforts due to its ongoing fire.

Grungy streets of slick pavement,
you bear the burden of the busy day
from taxi tires and the puddles that spray
the not-so-white crosswalk tiles worn down to fragments.

Back to you, crimson brick building wall,
with mortar sealed in between your edges and aisles
of an exhausted exterior which designs your faded worldly style,
you are the epitome of existing, surviving, straight and tall.

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