untitled (august 2020 #2)

I met, at my own convenience, the owner of
My fate.
He was kind and polite and also
Extremely late.
He spoke to me of visions had,
Blurred in two-zero/two-zero-zero,
He spoke in rhyme and out of time
About how it would all come true.

About where the median dispersion
Of aperture frames shifts from
Third to second story is my favourite

The declension in architecture
Like a depressed button,
Shoved down further into
Malleable concrete, pegged.

From street level, walking and cycling,
The peripheral capability of human sight
Curbs the big step into a lack of graphic violence.

One of the two gargoyles tacked
To the top front of the taller structure
Solemnly mourns the old movement –
Eyes shut for the brutalism of the shorter.

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