Name

Buildings separated by concrete
and cold are getting old
and you can see it in the cracking
paint around every single door.
People wait in mass for
one of those doors to open
just to sit and listen about
what they left at home.
A hotel T.V. plays a news story
about the demolition of a football
stadium in Detroit. They’ve had
a new one for so long it doesn’t matter.
Still, there’s something uncomfortable
about a pile of rubble in the middle
of nothing but parking lots that spread
in all directions from the source.
The young want the whole world
to be something different.
The old will fight to keep it all the same.
Talons grip the edges of a street sign
obscuring any remnants of a name.