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.