sleeping on streets

i would sleep on streets just to say he was coming home.
i never felt more alive than when i fell asleep
legs draped over my bike underneath the summer sun.
by the bay a little off the road near a bench but not on it.
i was wondering what to say to you...
i was dreaming of calling home your arms.
instead i found home on hard cement.
it is beautiful in the fact that it splits and cracks like my heart,
fixed by patch, dirt, a new layer.

covering all the old wounds
covering the holes dug in
for your sewage pits
for your curbing

like my heart
the streets have cracks from constant pressure
from heating and cooling passions
from ice
slowly trickling in by way of water
and freezing
separating and breaking

my bike tires are bent from hugging the road
trying to get every degree to touch
every inch of my heart
getting closer to myself
through running it over

my bike isn't very smart
but at least he's trying.

my feet
wear shoes because it knows
touching my heart would do them damage
my heart takes up all the refuse
your needles
your glass
but along with the refuse
it allows nature to burst through
flowers
weeds
trees
grass

this makes sidewalks look crappy
but the sidewalk should know better
than to separate my heart
from my feet
we're the same body
we're supposed to touch
even if it's through shoes.