Roses were not meant to be grown
In cities.
I planted one,
On the sidewalk,
And another on the roof.
Spring came and
They bloomed.
Tall and red,
Just one rose among the throngs
Of people coursing the street,
And another up with the birds.
Store owners complained
The rose was too red,
And streetwalkers had to take
Extra steps,
And certain types said the rose
Should be planted where it can be appreciated.
I thought it was perfect where it was
Crowded streets getting a glance
At one red rose growing where
Nothing had before.
Up high the other rose
Bellowed down to birds and bees to
Come and rest awhile.
In return for the rose’s hospitality
The seeds were spread around the city.
The following spring
Roses grew out of many sidewalks,
Out of dumpsters,
On the sides of buildings,
And even out of the trunks of cars.
It was documented in the news
As a “Travesty of Nature”
People shoved their noses at a
City blanketed with roses.
Soon,
Businessmen took extra swings with their
Briefcases,
Taxis made extra turns,
Strangers found ways to take extra steps.
I watched from the window of
My building.
I saw the wide eyes grow wider
When a standing rose was spotted.
It was like a massacre of beauty
All these people gnawing to
Get a chance to destroy a rose.
When the summer came the roses were gone.
Nothing left but a few stems and petals
Covered over with black streaks
Of oil and soot.
Walkers went back to walking
While staring at the ground.
Businessman went businesslike
Again.
Taxis went back to efficiency.
The world was as the world was.
Beauty really is useless.
