Scrape scrape
and the skin bleeds
paints the sidewalk
drips over pastel chalk
drawings of two girls
stick bodied and
skirted with triangles.
Three-fingered hands
clasped together like braids
and music notes dance
above curly mopped heads.
Afternoon clouds shift,
hopscotch spent, and now
the game is dotted,
bespecked and spotted
droplets–broken dreams.
