2024.....Don’t build walls

It’s easy to understand the rough touch
of an ornate brick, the concrete shoes
that keep me fixed mixing mortar,
listening to my blood pump, drowning out
bird song and expectations.
 
Any good hoarder worth his pile of
newspapers will tell you, that once  
the walls are complete we start on the tunnels,  
everything bought from the ground up,  
must be saved for future reference.
 
Above the basic workings of a life not lived
I am a landfill site for Amazon trucks,
the crust that seagulls flock for, laughing
from their rooftops, the peck and cry of
missed understanding.
 
The 240 volts of a trialing lead
only feeds a kettle and a single hot plate
long enough for everything to deteriorate.
The soft words pull this pale thin body
from the earthquakes rubble, the rescue
teams take care of every brick,  
my mind is ready to stand up straight
face new days like a smiling clown,
with one damp match I'll burn the house down.