Kiss the concrete, kid.
Kiss the concrete.
Because you two will get real close.
You’ll meet up on the schoolyard
Where kids will watch you snuggle,
With bony fists, ready to push you down.
She’ll cover you in tender purple kisses
Until the old bell rings.
You’ll meet when your feet get too big
For the rest of you. Gravity
Suddenly will feel stronger than before.
Concrete will comfort you
As you sit in the rain
On your girlfriend’s porch,
Knowing she won’t take you back,
Smelling the strong perfume of
Wet concrete, the reminder
That she will always be there for you.
She’ll propel you to your first job,
Coffee for the boss in hand.
She’ll feel light after you bump into
The girl with those eyes that made your
Body feel so heavy, maybe the concrete
Was the only thing holding you up.
She’ll stay with you after that first car crash,
Trip you up with a crack when she sees
You laughing on that date, because
Even she gets jealous.
You’ll pick your kids up in your arms,
Bandage them after they meet her
For the first time. Explain that she isn’t
The enemy in a big city. Growing up in
A concrete ocean, Los Angeles, where
Everything just goes on and on,
You’re adrift.
Sometimes only concrete
Will keep you grounded,
Is tough enough to make it through,
And can make you think
Maybe,
Just maybe,
You can survive this ocean, this jungle,
This life, long enough to find the life
You envisioned. You’ll almost forget how
She was so important. Until.
You bandage that first scrape and you say,
With emotion the child can’t know,
Will only know when they grow,
“Kiss the concrete, kid.
Kiss the concrete.
Because you two will get real close.”