The Bricklayer

His wheelbarrow wobbled Across the broken sidewalk Toward the job site Where the work was Some girls in yellow taxis rode by and whistled at his tanned arms. His brown boots got chalked as he scuttled and scooted The heavy load And he thought about her Again He was so clean and polished last night When they sat down for dinner Around perfect white cloths So uncomfortable for him Only to hear her say,”I’m leaving.” Her skin was like a pond in the morning Before anything was awake. Her eyes were like Grecian isles Even her nose was a perfectly acute angled Piece of her face. He was a bricklayer and knew his place. And he would never ever get to kiss her face Again. So today he dumped out his wheelbarrow full of bricks and started building his walls again.