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
