As boys, we chased one another,
down the hallways,
to recess, sandwiches next to the courts.
Now, rusted beams
loom over our heads,
like a ribcage,
that has stopped breathing.
I imagine the harbor
engulfing the bricks,
making sand out of stone,
making its history finally end.
Or this place will outlive us,
will carry the memory of our talk,
of the lives we spent in it,
our companion aging without us.