Wrote Our Names in Concrete

A poem on impermanence

There in the almost dark dusk of early spring
we knelt side by side by the wet concrete
and you told me to go first and I said, No you first
so we started together and the sticks broke
in that thick wet stone.
We should have known but how could we?
That what flowed smooth in the day
would be firm in the night.
Less like writing and more a scratching
the effort made us strain, at last we each drew
our own half of the heart that outlined us
and with the veil of night we ran home laughing.

I passed that spot today—I saw them
breaking and carting away our slab
without ceremony

Photo taken by the author