“that place over there…”

across from the mini mart stands an old brick building with a rotting roof
we used to hang out there under the awning during the noon sun or heavy rain
the old timers liked to spread word of a murder there, but no one knows for sure
no proof, no old newspaper clippings to confirm that, or bullet holes in the wall

a baby had been conceived on the steps in the back
the son of a britches
salesman from Tulsa, who took a regular booty call with a lonely local
that couldn’t say no to a free pair of pants, panting, panties down

for twenty years or so an attorney split the place with a dentist
they shared a receptionist and she must have had it rough
are you here for pain or more pain? we’ve got it all
just turn left or right as you stumble down the dingy hall

indeed it has been a busy spot
political rallies, girls scout cookie sales, a hobo’s bed
the building volunteers its history to no one
you have to read between the mortar

you must smell the smell, vibrate in sync and listen to its story
a century of lifetimes in this neighborhood have known
the difference between this place and a showy new place uptown
has the vehemence of these experiences kept it from coming down?