A Crack in the Sidewalk
Jump over the crack; this one is too big
An investigation is required a meticulous dig.
The waves appear bigger when squatting down here.
They distort the concrete garden and red water stumps,
making sweat dampen the napes of small necks.
The child focused on bent knees
and dirt-encrusted fingernails,
sifting through the rubble of small pebbles and sand
while lost in scenarios of collecting treasure in distant lands.
Useful items stuffed in pockets
to be displayed on a breezy sill;
a cracked button for an eyeball-hole to fill,
worn from past wishes, a copper coin to complete a roll,
fuzzy yellow yarn to decorate a loose ponytail,
secret codes ripped in half with words only adults know.
Roly-poly bugs hide in a jar
with a dandelion flower for food
and some broken sticks, and a discarded straw.
The afternoon fades into a sterile glow.
The smell of fried fish, boiled broccoli, and baked bread,
a signal to go home soon,
where a bath awaits, as well as prayers and a pillow to rest one’s head.
The moment has shifted,
and bikes now jump over once-mined holes.
The waves are a mirage,
a mystical destination where riches are coins
for the local Five and Dime;
purple rock candy glued to a stick,
layers of Gobstoppers lasting all month,
boxes of Lemonheads,
and orange Creamsicle stains adorning worn-out white Keds.
Treasures are now scratched forty-fives,
a few matches, worn caps,
pictures torn out of adult magazines and shoved under beds,
dogeared baseball cards, and swiped blue eyeshadow.
A cuss word whispered to a buddy,
a mouth too old to be washed out with soap.
Pushing the boundaries, an exploration of youth.
A change in perspective;
Time is of the essence.
The cracks are now trenches filling up fast.
Bagging groceries and tossing papers, burgers, and fries.
Every buck earned and tucked aside
for wheels and a ride.
Friday slow dancing and seeking a kiss.
Sipping Boones Farm, blowing smoke rings,
and holding hands under the desk.
Grounded forever, no telephone, dates, or trips to the mall.
Weeks filled with weed-pulling, fence-staining,
wet pillows, lost love and lost time.
Secret notes slipped into lockers, whispers, and sneaking-out plans.
A shift in the atmosphere and the moment departed.
Pacts and promises for tomorrow.
Time ever moving on,
Leaving that beautiful crack in the sidewalk behind.
Racing toward the wrinkle in the city,
the world is shrinking, the itch settles in-
And our state of mind has been altered yet again…
College, careers, marriage, and moves.
Your first house, your firstborn,
and the passing of a parent much too soon.
Retirement parties, downsizing, grandchildren.
New adventures, hobbies, golf-cart spins
and long lunches.
Building and building until the light is joined
with the moon and transforms once more.
Reflections, cherished moments of joy,
love, forgiveness, and grief,
All memories of the past…
How do you begin again?
How do you make time last?
By Daria Pardue
