Gum Spots (a poem)

Gum Spots

As I was walking down the street
my mind was drawn to something neat.
A blackened spot upon the ground,
discreet and flat and perfectly round.
A gum spot surrounded by millions more
that once had colors and flavors galore!
And once upon a time they were spat on down,
to lay on the constantly overlooked ground
to be stepped on by sneakers,
worn by momentarily profane speakers...

But this one spot caused me to wonder to myself,
what pack that piece came from right off of the shelf.
Was it fruity or minty or a fiery cinnamon?
And what caused this person to spit out their gum?
Had it just lost its flavor or was it a hurried release,
to be replaced by fries or a quarter pound of beef?
And how many people must've spat a piece out,
to create enough spots to polka dot the ground?
And how much time will have lapsed
when the days of pavement will have passed
and the ground will just be a rubbery layer
which when jumped upon, will spring us into the air?