purple cubes set into the sidewalk, downtown Portland
I do not trust these delicate, artsy grates. Are the purple cubes made of glass? Polished stone? Resin? How do they stay suspended in the crumbling concrete? Most days, I tip-toe around the edges, imagining the squares cracked and shattered after an earthquake, rattled out of their settings by the rough tires of a mountain bike, or slicked loose after winter rain.
Today, one of the cubes has dropped out, revealing a dark, hollow space beneath the sidewalk. All last week, it seemed tenuous and tender, like a loose baby tooth. I wanted to crawl across the grid and wiggle it free - a purple bicuspid to hide under my pillow.
I can't resist. I jump onto the grid and play imaginary hopscotch. No one notices.
On another sidewalk, several blocks away, an engraved brick reads by the skin of your teeth. I am taking this as a sign.