to wash in the wash to be

when spring is shouting in my very ear,

the flurry leads me on. past militants,

saluting the place i used to work in as a youngster,
into the european quarters
(which i haven't seen for the longest time,
must return when europe isn't residing in top meetings)

i walk a street i recognize,
 

after a short while

a stranger eating a sandwich is trying to lure me in
for more pic's, somewhere inside this derelict building,
but sorry guy! just the cell, won't do.

spring remains my strongest lead and

sun bounces off any building i look at,
derelict or not, they all shine.

i hold my head high until the very end,

when i feel squeaky clean refreshed.
brussels {elsene/ixelles} on a weekday.