Bucket of Rain

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

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There was a crack in the sidewalk

where our dreams would leak through

like vanilla pudding or a bucket of rain:

trying to catch it with open fists

just didn't work, no matter how hard we tried.

Still, we walked by that crack in the sidewalk

every Wednesday afternoon

when you got off work early and

I had nothing better to do.

You would brachiate from branch to branch

of your family tree on that endless search

for a spare dollar, quarter, or a dime

for us to spend on cigarettes that would

never light in the soggy street.

I kept a hand in your back pocket

and an eye on the elegant sculpture of your face

as we jumped over the crack in the sidewalk

and tried not to fall in.