Creeping along the sidewalk in branching patterns,
Populace rushing past never notices;
The world whirls on;
Weeds and wrappers fill the gaps
And birds peck crumbs.
Leaves are caught and decompose
With long seasons.
Still the cracks spread in erratic lines
Past blues shops
Nestled deep in Nashville's heart,
And under speeding traffic.
Rush! says humanity, but the cracks digress.
They spread slow and sure
Past a weather-beaten building "For Rent”,
Pausing by a man sitting.
He plays guitar slow and sure,
Waiting for crumpled bills.
Though few ever take much notice,
The cracks make the city.
Share This Poem