I had a stop-this-train moment
and couldn't tell you because
our trains detached at the
split in the tracks.
I couldn't think who else
I to tell. I'll tell you here.
It was a moment approaching
the grocery store, when the
collection of seasonal flowerboxes,
scattered and just watered,
brought back every trip ever
to our childhood grocery store
in summer.
Popsicles, the pool, bikes
and playgrounds. Our "village."
That record's grooves play so deep
in my memory that sinking down
to them makes me nauseous.
A nostalgia so thorough, so
hopeless, in turns my stomach.
I felt faint at the door of the store.
I felt my past beseeching
and my present reaching
back in time, but returning
with nothing.
Not even a lone flower.
~September 23, 2010
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