kicking off dreams in the dryest grass

up the city sidewalks
uneven cement
perturbed ruptures
through stress and depth compounded
a wishing weed grows.

and it's crying
for anyone in reverie,
no one plucks me.
so you kicked it
punt, puff!

wispy dream seeds everywhere,
floating, flying,
seeking more cracks
in the pavement.

but the stress and depth conflicted
Huston, we all have a problem,
there is no stuff that dreams are made of.