I walked on my lunch break to an authentic Mexican diner
near work. My car was being a shit. Again.
I walked along the sidewalk, my smart flats slapping the hot pavement and I saw
growing out of the crack in the sidewalk, right there in the center, 8 inches tall and proud as could be.
I bent down and examined the perfect yellow and white and green. I touched it.
I wanted it for my own. A reminder. The lesson. Grow where you can.
I’d press it into paper and keep it always!
I left it for someone else to enjoy, but I felt sad about it.
I walked to that diner and ate and wrote poems in pink pen about that flower on
napkins that I lost
but they were
beautiful like that determined flower, trying with
all it’s might to exist in a place
it shouldn’t be.
Just like me.