Sidewalk
The basket of suburban living:
Catcher of 2:15 in the morning,
the vomit and Fucks of the bar fodder,
littered by the emptied stomachs
of youth; the smudged chalk portraits and
freely abandoned trikes, feces
and flies, the venue for garbage buffets.
Sanctuary of sneakers,
Of scraped knees, a home
for orphaned oak leaves,
the open casket for summer’s
suicide, the greens of gutted weeds
and trimmed grass, the hairs
of what is yet to be swept.
Cradle for first kisses,
Observer of last stands,
who bears the screech of rubber
tires kicking final farewells.
And yet, warmth
like a mother’s touch
when a five year old cries
and sees only the imprint
of concrete against the palm.
