I Wish This Place

Sand has formed itself to shell

Impossibility within which to dwell

Good luck, fair weather, another year

For the place that stays on here

My wish is more selfish than that

I want to take it, wrap it up

I pick up the corners of loose bricks

And fold them slowly, light as air

I slip the windows into my bag

And into my pocket goes the door

I find a compass of zigzag tracks

A ballet of heavy machinery

Scaffolding falls into a telescope

Now thin lines are holding up the sky

I wish this place well, and I wish it ill

But it takes off alone, and I haven’t the will