Brutalist
How easy it would be to forget
sitting with her on the concrete step
of Gardenia Court.
Gold were the cans of Special Brew
the packs of Bensons golden too
as we smoked and drank more than we ought.
We didn’t talk, I just watched her, the cars,
the road, her face, the little scars
I forgot I made.
And over us loomed Gardenia Court.
And we smoked and drank more than we ought.
But I never asked you why you stayed.
It’s like architecture and engineering,
the empty words, the concrete meaning.
Page(s) 15
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