The Bricklayer
His wheelbarrow wobbled
Across the broken sidewalk
Toward the job site
Where the work was
Some girls in yellow taxis rode by and whistled at his tanned arms.
His brown boots got chalked
as he scuttled and scooted
The heavy load
And he thought about her
Again
He was so clean and polished last night
When they sat down for dinner
Around perfect white cloths
So uncomfortable for him
Only to hear her say,”I’m leaving.”
Her skin was like a pond in the morning
Before anything was awake.
Her eyes were like Grecian isles
Even her nose was a perfectly acute angled
Piece of her face.
He was a bricklayer and knew his place.
And he would never ever get to kiss her face
Again.
So today he dumped out his wheelbarrow full of bricks and started building his walls again.
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