Sunday, December 24, 2006


Once you set foot on this ground
You are not the same.
The world moves differently, has
A different hue,
Darker colors.
Then you’re away, you do other things
And come back some years later
To the same town.
You’ve changed yourself, or
You’ve gone back to what you were before,
That’s it, that’s
What you think.
Back in this town it looks different, the
Colors run a fuller span, the
People you’d met before are
Probably still there.
You don’t see them.
Not because you aren’t looking
Though you aren’t. They
Go to the market in other hours,
Use the gas pump when you aren’t at it.
They don’t live in your neighborhood.
When you see one, she
Does not recognize you, only
For a moment thinks she might,
Then shakes her head, no, and passes on
Brushing you from her thoughts.
And you don’t wave, don’t
Invite the memory.
And you like it this way.
They wouldn’t know you, the
Others who barked their ankles on uneven pavement
While you were scraping along the same street.
You drive down it now
On your way to errands.
Your landmarks are different.
You like it this way.

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