Bridges and Chimneys

If you walk up the stairwell and lift the hatch

you can sit by the chimney pots and look out

at the trains going over the railways bridge

so far in the distance while you can touch

the mismatched bricks in need of repairing.

We are so high up here we can look out

at all the chimneys and bridges of the town.

Life's most beautiful things are always functional;

nests and wells, reservoirs and noses

and up here on the red concrete tiles

we remember rooftop parties we’ve been to

with cool girls with fringes but by now we’ve realised

there is nowhere more cosy than these tenement blocks

where we spend our evenings cross-legged drinking wine

and occasionally someone will say ‘let’s go to the roof’

and we’ll be up here again with the aerials and telephone wires. 

Birds perch on chimneys and then soar

like a standing ovation over the arc of the bridges

higher than the tips of the industrial chimneys

that stand there like statues of Hollywood greats

like stories told by grandparents

like the one friend in your group who has no cynicism

but underneath the bridges there is darkness and dampness

up here are eroding chimneys in need of repairing.

Sitting on this rooftop life is complicated or it is simple

blueprints of architectural drawings of bridges.

A wax crayon drawing of a house. Four windows,

a front door, flowers in the garden and a chimney.