In Admiration of the Brick

There are occasions when one hears,

“You are a true brick.”

Others may say “a real brick.”

Of course, the speakers flatter with a metaphor,

For few of us speak to bricks.

Those who address a brick

Assume the brick addressed knows it is a brick.

Otherwise it would be uncommonly stupid,

Even for a brick.

When we describe another who is not a brick

As a true brick or a real brick,

We mean of course that they are solid,

They are true and loyal and dependable,

Sure friends whom we can trust.

If these are our friends due to fatuity

We may say of them

That they are as thick bricks,

Each separately is as thick as a brick,

Or a given number of bricks,

Such as two bricks or three bricks.

We could also compare them with planks.

We may liken them to a barrow of bricks.

But that’s as thick in terms of bricks

As any fool has any right to be,

Even one foolish enough to be a friend.

When we salute a real brick,

A real brick in the literal sense,

Apart from considering our own sanity,

We must consider its patient solidity,

How it will stand in place,

Immured, participating in a wall

For a century or more

Dislodged only by dynamite

Or a great, swinging, iron ball.

 

bricks

 

Of course we find utility in the brick’s endurance,

Just as we find utility in a silly friend.

There is nought to motivate such folly

Save the gullible character of a fool.

To engage in thankless, endless task,

To dedicate stamina as unfaltering support

Is surely a mark of gross stupidity.

Bricks have no zeal, no discussion,

No apparent evidence is there they enter consideration.

But perhaps on those occasions

When a building collapses,

It may be all its bricks have held a meeting.

One or two of them have thought

To coin a question for the brick assembly:

“Are we men or bricks?”

Bricks, being bricks, are little given to thought,

Even less than men, even less than women,

Many of whom, as we know,

Are stupider than bricks.

So the aftermath of the aforementioned question

Is to render the assembled bricks

Into confused disarray.

It is right then, you see,

To admire the staunch, steady, stupid brick.

For a brick that thinks will tumble,

Or infect other bricks to think and tumble.

Enough bricks thinking

Means widespread tumbling.

And the end of everything.

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