Those who once were are now all dispersed:
Old Alliance is shifted, after closed –
With natural death an inevitability,
With our feelings the armour, the only hold
Against fried chicken laid thick and thinly boned.
A photograph, a memory –
Do you have any, some something of where the
Old House where the Old Alliance used to be?
That once gallant, spacious, homely sentiment
Now demolished, resurrected as fucking KFC.
The thickly dense, once flower-filled front yard,
Slight ascending pathway to the broad front steps.
Study rooms, idle hours, laid back students, their
Mothers – to protect virgin souls from others – seated on the bench.
From alphabet, hasty bon jours to French kissing: all French.
A graphic memory – a photo print, I say,
The salles reconciled under great stalwart names.
Toilets, Café running, Directeur’s Room by the library
Opening into students’ seatings by the stairway to the landing upper.
In between classes Monsieur W. sliding down for a cuppa.
On Facebook, the unknowing motherfucker, they say:
“KFC now come to Peradeniya Road – call in you mates,yay!”
I say: you coarse consumerist sentimentless pig, this is you
Who roll over what in memories on memories are blessed
To put up your shop in a design already guessed.