I moved from one grand city to another
city, smaller. Or so it’s felt, mostly—
this place minus millions, minus swarms
and quick hits, sweet roasted nuts,
infinite asphalt and towers above it.
This place, minus millions:
what to do with all that subtraction?
And yet, an opening:
On walking midday between neighborhoods,
eyes down (still the unwillingness
to acknowledge a new normal),
the scent of something so familiar,
so unmistakable—wrapped in pine air,
longing of lost school years;
hike to a high lake, dazzling crystal—
I caught. Just stood there, filling.
How that only felt more.