As the new showroom was being built,
for the first time I had a sincere interest
in my grandfather’s part
of the family business,
wished he were alive to
walk me through each layer
of the process.
It looked so facinating.
I knew his spirit was somewhere
mumbling,
“Now you want to know
how the damn things are built.”

I wish we had talked more
when I was younger
about how things are created.
He might have taught me
an appreciation for architecture
if we’d had a language we could share.
He might have given me advice
for how to build my own empire
instead of doing a poor job
attending to his.

What we learned to build were walls
made of silence,
resemtment,
frustration,
apathy.

And now I build with words
structures of dubious value
and durability.
And I wonder what we might have built together
if he had ever recognized me
as a fellow builder.