They’re getting paid to watch cement dry.

They can’t have fools coming by

Falling in love and deciding to

Concrete the notices of it

In the blueish grayish clay 

With their names, or at least their initials,

And a heart with an arrow piercing it,

Right in the middle of their nice corner,

Or a proud mother whose toddler’s hands

And name and date

Are destined for immortality here.

But a dog has gotten loose,

And before they can stop him,

His puppy feet prints will dot the street,

And only now they see a leaf had fallen, too, 

Undetected, and will also be

A part of this semi-permanent record,

Fossilized in this modern “public work.”

-jenn