A School of Thought

Past sixties concrete school, 'n a large plane
tree lifted 'n split the little wall.
Two 236 buses nodded at each
other, looking busy at it. They

passed a roadside shrine outside some flats
- a young - black - guy with a pretentious name
stabbed. Died. Reference to the smell of weed
'n local residents had wanted cctv

-well that's what the newspaper cutting said
alongside the bunches of flowers on the
railings, cards, candles in wine bottles.

An escalator of paddling pools, in Atlanta,
for Martin Luther King - 'n that little garden
a more loving, personal, touch.
'n a long silence after the speech.

'n the earth will fold it gently unto itself
- though probably not for a little while.
Steve frowns when I run ideas by like this,
but that's how it works - folding sleeves.