Locked me to the core

Mortared bricks with your name

Garden’s poisonous offering

Climbed up on top of you

For inspiration and fame

In black tie and hunger strike

Rolled down your skin

Got back up, rolled the same

Summer’s heat became an intruder

Transients come and go

Foreign tongues unevenly tame

Slithering down your inside corridors

Descending – ascending traffic

Constructing territories, marking claim

Leaving remnants along your slabs

Gathering of photographic thieves

Meat banquet, witnessing game

Hearing swallowing voices, sitting once more

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.06.09.21:36:02@130BklynNYC