Herod

These stones are being piled upon old ones,
like Herod did,
upon the ramparts and moorings of last century
with its twiggy litter and bottled-all.

Strangers only half-thirsty for pop lemonade
the ounces remaining went to the critters
or up into the sun.

What's newly built acts immature
wears make-up for cover like other thoughts
that escaped me, like something I meant
to recycle.

There are:
link fences and metal doors
-- zay gezunt --

Things I may never know:
economics, patricide, piano,
and the pleasure,
of building something.