The taste of scraping lingers.
So mechanical our words,
our gestures.
In the parking lot,
you kissed me on the cheek.

Cardboard drags
across wet
grainy cement

as tiny feet
echo
in an alley-way
near my house.

While oil
soaks into strands
of brown fiber,

a child
beneath the window
sleeps.

Silly blue tricycle
bends in the rain
where a girl has fallen.

Muddled screams
and washed away tears
follow a trail of blood.

------- (edit) -------

Silly blue tricycle
bends in the rain
and a girl falls.

Muddled screams
and tears awash
a trail of blood