Even Concrete Evolves In Time

Armed with Rustoleum & grandiose aliases

in case of arrest, we branded the sidewalks

with our anti-violent, violent message,

wheat-pasted sins & leafleted long after

bull-headed & well-intentioned arguments

turned to mildly-amused barely noticed,

disavowing all each morning, like a hangover

that just needs to be powered through.

These days, I wake to birdcall followed

by children’s questioning of everything,

including What Mama Did When She Was Younger,

& in sharing glimpses of days gone, hope

they’re able to ride that current of Hope.

I spin their messages into a river of words,

in up to my neck, yesterday’s sidewalks soaked

& glistening with the power of every single one.

Susie challenged the Real Toads to write a street poem.