Gutter Shine

A kid, all sticky hand and grin,

let go a wad of pink,

a bright sweet mess, a sugary sin,

right there, before you think.

Then later, by the same cracked curb,

an old man, ragged cough,

a phlegm-thick glob, a gross superb,

he hocked it, shook it off.

Two wet spots, glinting in the sun,

or maybe just the gray,

small universes, swiftly spun,

then washing slow away.

The ground just takes it, what we expel,

the things we can't keep in.

A tiny, slick, unholy well,

where life and dirt begin.