They're leveling blocks the paper said

They're leveling blocks, the paper said,

where my old school stood, now just dead

rubble. Another glass tower grows,

where some small history still knows

my name, or did. The concrete grinds,

erasing corners, changing minds

of memory. This place just takes,

and builds, and never stops, or brakes.

It never asked if I was fine,

just swallowed up that crooked line

of shops, the deli, the broken swing.

It doesn't care what childhoods bring

or what they lose. Just steel and height.

Another shadow in the light.