Chalk Art

By Rebecca T. Dickinson

It’s been a year or more

since we colored ourselves

on sidewalks,

a parking lot

and my heart.

You spilled

red wine

before the rain,

and I took

another sip.

You didn’t tell me

there was her,

but you knew there is him.

You brought chalk,



and white sheets.

Run white fingers

through my hair.

I close my eyes.



and May.

Then you spill



and tequila.

You whistle and draw

as I try to recall

a time or myth

when you loved me at all.

 © 2007 by Rebecca T. Dickinson.  All Rights Reserved


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