The bricks challenged.
Façade with an attitude.
More came before you.
More will follow.
Seven blocks from the ocean.
One bridge away from Downtown.
A place passed if even seen.
Forlorn and forgotten.
Just another five stories no one hears.
They remembered.
Dark things.
Little ones that quit breathing without reason.
Two that had help.
Fights that never really stopped until blood flowed.
Some that went on even after that.
Lonely people gone before others noticed.
Days sometimes.
Weeks one time.
Bricks remembered.
Tagged and repaired.
Tagged and repaired.
Weather beaten and all the heartier for it.
Hit by a Volvo guided by a blind drunk in sixty three.
Newer bricks came and still showed their difference.
Still, red is red and you had to know where to look.
The bricks were cold.
Sun kissed too little.
Shaded too much.
People noticed the Maple Tree.
I noticed the bricks.
The bricks noticed me.
They didn’t care.
Perhaps they never will.
It’s been a long time since anyone cared.
They fit right into the neighborhood.
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