When the Curbside Pined for You

Do you think 

of the pavement with each

graceful prance, each careless

step a mocking pressure 

upon its squalid face?

If it paused 

in its hopelessness

and anguish 

to take stock of 

infatuation and take

offense at your naive

snub

(note: sidewalks, to my knowledge

do not, as a rule

love, think, or bear grudges, still)

it would rear

up 

and skin your

damn-lovely

porcelain knees

even as it daydreams

fondly of that night two

months ago when you, inebriated,

besotted, clung to it 

for dear life 

and whispered 

your numerous sorrows

as it caressed and soothed

your flushed cheek.