The corner street brick

That part of the road and sidewalk untended
Where weeds and the windblown trash ends up
And where the young go astray
the night invites them out

And they become like the tarr on the road
melting as summer sweeps it's long tail once more
separating from the road
and licks at the bluish worn stones

People peer through the glass
looking down toward the rugged ragged brick
to where the paranoid boys scurry
The junk they transport scattered against their wall

So chipped and bleached and cracked
embedded into the unplastered wall
addicted to the toxic graffiti that tags it up
Slowly becoming a piece of the dead street