Considering Concrete

Sometimes he wished he lived away from dirt
In a place of concrete
Easy to sweep
A place without dust devils
Heavy cobwebs
Or the brown droplets left behind
By wet feet or sweaty coffee mugs

He could then read the curbside cracks
Like a blind palm reader in an Appalachian cave
Predicting Apocalypses
It would suit him
Yet no one would believe

Instead he'll keep his dirt
And his dreams intact
Knowing that there is no coming back from concrete