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.
--me
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