i really dislike this poem and that is not me being humble that is me knowing when poetry is good and when it is bad (this is bad.)

 The sidewalk sparkles

If you tilt your head
just right. Only
on a day where the
Sun boils your skin and
Fries your eggs,
but you’ll walk along
it until your heels
blister just like your skin.

When Earthworms that
assemble on the surface
onto puddles and mud
lay dead, dried out
on the pavement,
post-Salamander weather.
Their bodies haunt
the sidewalk and dulls
its sparkle.

It will when the barren
Trees and fogged mind
turn into the type of
weather that makes People
compliment my
hair’s undertones,
how it reflects the
garnet splotches in
the back that didn't
become saturated
The last time I dyed it.

It will once
the Sky holds
the type of Sun that
keeps you warm
and glowing despite
the Winds blowing you
further away from
home, where all the
Earthworms live
and the sidewalks still
sparkle.