From a Sidewalk’s Point of View

NOTE: On each Saturday of February, seven other participants and I are enjoying a poetry workshop. One of the prompts we were given after the first of four sessions was “If the sidewalk had ears.” Thus, you will read below my poem in response to this prompt. I created the poem with the point of view being the sidewalk. In the poem’s title, you will find the number “53202” which is the zip code for my area.

POV: Sidewalk 53202 (AKA Sidewalk of Milwaukee’s East Town)

poem by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

I hear her coming,

coming down the stairs of her townhouse.

Oh, there she is with her guide dog.

How I love to feel those nails of her Labrador:

they tickle my cemented face and make me smile.

That person named Alice

is the one who sees with her feet:

she has memorized my entire face.

If only other pedestrians paid as much attention to me,

they would not be tripping on me

or falling all over me.

Ouch! The words I hear at times!

Back to a sweeter topic–that guide dog’s name is Willow;

and when she wears those cute little blue boots,

I can hardly hold my laughter.

A-ah, but that intelligent Willow

stops at each of my cracks

to alert her handler.

Yes, I am admitting I do have cracks,

chips (but I need no dentist),

uplifts—but I do not complain to my buddies the Oaks

that try to be my good neighbors

(despite their always pushing me).

Did you hear that?

Alice, the handler, said,

“Willow, find the bumpies.”

I was so perturbed when those workers from DPW

stuck all those pimpled metal plates

upon my beautiful face.

However, now I have learned that these tactile markings

on my beautiful face

are amazing markers

for Willow to let Alice know that they are at a curb—

well, what used to be a curb.

Now, I just gently roll right into the street

to assist people who use wheelchairs, walkers, and other such items.

Oh, no, I hear pedestrians talking about predictions of

a snow or ice storm!

Oh, no, here come those little machines

spreading that terrible salt

too thickly—all over my beautiful face!

Where is my friend Alice

when I need her?

She is the self-proclaimed “Saint of Complaints”

and detests this salt as much as I.

Once again, my cracks will widen;

chips will expand to potholes!

Oh, the blemishes this salt causes!

Should I try to explain to you how abrasive the salt is on my face?

Please tell the DPW workers:

undoubtedly, by the fall of next year,

I will need a facelift!

Concretely yours,

Sidewalk 53202

• Thanks for strolling down this WORDWALK sidewalk!
• Alice and Leader Dog Willow
• February 15, 2024, Thursday