Sidewalk Cracks Poem by Alexander Beebe

The sidewalk cracks I know them well;
I've counted each a thousand times.
The boarded buildings use to hold
the lives of merchants, families, homes.

The draw of gold it segregates the ones with
means to chase the dream. Others stay
to guard the souls of tattered dreams which won't
let go.

Guilty of the same offense; I tunneled through
but left no trace. No crumbs to follow, no lighted path,
I closed the door to my own past.

But when my void draws me back to fenced-in lots
and broken glass, I see the eyes of those I've known
who rest on stoops, the poor man's throne.

The time machine I ride upon keeps me cloaked,
safe, and warm like a general through the battle
field assessing losses, scars and fears.

And yet their stares penetrate far beyond my
glassy gate, to the place deep down inside
that holds my guilt and foolish pride.

Next time when I'm passing through, I tell myself
I'll join the stoop. I'll catch up with the ones I knew.
We'll reminisce; we'll throw some hoops.

I'm getting good at telling lies, I've told that lie
a thousand times. The common thread that joined
our past, too thin to hold, too thin to last.

And so I drive back to my world of bankrupt deeds
and corrupted norms. The time machine I ride
upon won't keep me cloaked, safe and warm. I find myself
in fields of tears, assessing losses, scars and fears.