The building underwent construction.
It’s feet were cloudy.
It’s body — covered in rope and ladders.
It’s face — hidden from the world.

A worker sat on a nearby beam.
“What a mess.”
“Your body is deteriorating.”
“What’s that?”
“Your body is deteriorating.”
“I’m 28 years old.”
“I’m 84.”
“I go home to my wife after this.”
“Girlfriend, and she hates that you smoke and don’t help with the laundry.”

The man stubbed his cigarette out; Took a bite of his tuna sandwich.
The building felt a draft on the tip of his head, and prayed for good weather.