I can’t stand the thought of
sitting on a street corner,
writing on the curb
with white chalk in the rain

Outlining puddles
in runoff contaminants,
bleeding into the asphalt,
following cracks and crevices

of the last poem I wrote
in permanent ink,
when the sun danced
across her smile

and my words
brought blue skies
to the pages of
my heart’s desire

I hate chalk…..