For some reason, much of my neighborhood doesn’t have sidewalks. There’s some near the larger streets, and forlornly disconnected handicap ramps floating on several corners. Hidden dog deposits and fire ant mounds, or parked cars forcing you to deal with (adjective of your choice here) drivers – those are your options.
I think of this poem every time I walk by this area. The sidewalk, or lack thereof, is a part of my life, but its ordinary nature makes me want to capture it. So I wrote a poem of my own.
Have you ever seen something like that? A knocked over stop sign, a favorite restaurant, graffiti, strangers passing by you, a pair of shoes lost on the side of the road – and you want to carry it with you. To define that something that’s a part of you, however you can – as a photo, drawing, poem, painting, or song…
Tangent: I saw The Raven. It had a Poe level of violence (more horror, less Kill Bill). Also, the writers tossed in a bunch of details from Poe’s real-life mysterious end. Click the link if you’re okay with spoilers, or wait until after you see the movie. I won’t judge.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sidewalk ends
not on a dramatic
but on a manicured expanse of lawn
Path stretching from the corner
linking three houses
but not the fourth
Past that house
grass stretches to the curb
and in some places
flowers and leaves and branches overspill
to the asphalt
You might as well walk on the road