I touch the bricks like they’ve got answers to find them softer than they look.     up close          they’re land stacked vertical

now your red and white façade leaves me mouthing   “it’s beautiful/ nah, it’s stuffy” feel the symmetry leased by gentle things such as; air;   settled, by grateful patients

since tenure’s paved with          life, and metaphors.     I try not to build false dreams.
still white
retinas   stroke bricks   and claw   your healing herbs   let it stop I hear the lions roar loyalty     two Empires          on high

then I might be   an inside-out-collector free of shame               and full of debts and sight our cabinet of rights
“they’re impressive”/they’re possessive! as bricks    or fart, too,    on my capital since we too bought a façade & mostly I sleep deep but hell   one wall’s got mould already        “it’s so historic/ tear it down”

when
our eyes finally depart these streets would we dare seek a shelf        in your cabinet