hard to kill

the two women laughed
at muddy shoes
repeatedly
clomp-clomping
on a tiny sodden shoot
that had poked through the
Most Important Sidewalk
in the city.

It was a sidewalk
that their husbands walked
a place where everybody
paid their dues
and everybody talked
and made transactions…
this cafe
in the city

“they cannot keep those weeds from growing in!”
remarked the banker’s wife,
as though she found it funny…
and yes, she was quite right
for green would fall to grey
but in time – soon enough! –
another shoot would crack the slab
meant to thwart the grasses’
tiny might

– its little right
of nothing more to grow
toward the light
to freely reach toward the sun
and stretch out
just where it liked.

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hard to kill

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