Bron-Yr-Aur (click to hear)

Sandra loves Éric says the sidewalk, as I put my feet on it.

I could've avoided it. A second before, when I saw it.

Walked over a summer love. Didn't leave a dent.

Over a beer drenched french kiss.

Over curious fingers on a slow afternoon.

Over Sandra's tears and Éric's regrets.

Wet cement, as tender as the softest tree trunk.

As smooth as the tallest rock on the side of the highway.

As permanent as the folds and lines in my hands.

I looked. I saw. Felt. Then put my foot down.

They're not going anywhere, Sandra and Éric.

I am.