Jason Vasser-Elong
Red brick
Old homes, storefronts
shine like red faces
greeting an autumn sun
horse drawn memories
that are not mine to have,
cobble stoned past.
The marvel that was the Eads
looming over the mighty Missi-
ssippi, like clouds over those
sold up and downstream,
blackhaw viburnum, catalpa,
& sweetgum leaves wave
like old friends in the breeze –
that even after centuries
can be felt by a pedestrian
approaching the steps
of a shabby edifice
under an October sky
almost always orange
and indifferent
never crimson
never brown.
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