The Old Building

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the old building was built from the rubble of time

he wrote history in the weather, the season, the heat, the rain, and the smells of the pesing at the corner

like nothing happened

this building is fused in his memory

about a poem luring a lover in the back room near the wc

in a gray-white uniform and a shy face

this building recalls the loyal old lady who swept it
now lying in the ICU

he remembered
a small cat that usually rolls cold in the waiting room

the director who rushed over had long been crushed

the building
staring at me in her increasingly wistful eyes
I smiled at him
the smile of a baby born from one of his rooms

he smiled back with a little doubtful memory

this afternoon
the building sent me a poem

"..I see the cat was lap sweeping grandmother sweep ,,"

I'm sad

... the building doesn't know
today it will end

as a parking lot
a new building