Sidewalks have no desires
as do streets, no hidden agendas,
no future place they long
to go and see. Sidewalks are content
with being still and listening to the stories
that shoes and paws beat
into their skin day after day. Sidewalks
have no other place to be but here.

Arlene writes poetry, song lyrics, and flash fiction. She’s working hard on a romance poem about dead birds and their last confessions at present.

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