She whispers into her melting ice and soda water,
and I wonder how often slow-crumbling walls ignore
this simple, desperate sentiment.

A place is not for you or against you.
Indifference is this world’s gift to us
to savor or scorn or squander.

I acquiesced for the sake of dual-preservation,
but she was right, in the end. Even the outskirts collapsed
not long after.