It reaches out like
One long, slate-colored finger,
Pointing straight forward.

It bends to the side.
The trees obscure my view, and,
I wonder what’s there.

All are the same.
Two people walk, side-by-side.
It’s six feet across.

I still feel guilty
When I step on all the cracks.
I broke my mom’s back.

Count each of the lines
One comes after the other
1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

A skid and a crash.
Skin greets the ash-sandpaper.
Face, meet Blood and Bruise.

Pebbly, bumpy, wet.
Two hands press into its face;
Now they’ll remember.

The slab is broken
Green tendrils of grass push up
And nature persists.

Rainbows on the ground
That a storm will wash away.
Ready for the new.

Follow the sidewalk,
Or cut yourself a new path.
Just make sure you go.