You told me ten stories of concrete would make this street shine like that star in the sky.
You told me how the bricks stacked neatly and piled into rows.
On that hot day
vultures flocked,
looking for my soul.
You said you would be there to celebrate the shade concrete towers would make.
But that star in the sky has been dead for centuries.
Now those concrete towers block my view of its memory.
And gave the vultures a way to corner me into the dark.
That was the only time I saw you celebrate.