Temporary Markings

They finally poured the asphalt,

level and black as a fresh bruise.

By noon, the girls from 4B

had mapped out a kingdom in yellow.

Number seven was lopsided,

a wobbly house for a small foot.

Then the clouds crowded in,

smelling of wet wool and electricity.

The game stayed behind

as the first drops hit.

I found the chalk stick snapped in the gutter,

running in pale, lemon-colored rivers

down the grate,

erasing the afternoon before it could even dry.