in the city.
But nineteen, twenty years behind
in my mind.
Dreams of early-90s fast food
with Mom & Dad & Megan.
The smell of smoke
from woodstove chimneys--
Life in the Woods.
The Turners.
Across the street that was actually a road.
Their dog Sunny.
Our dogs Lizzie(...) and Brandy.
Fort-building.
Chip and Dip Parties.
Waffles at the Log.
All of this comes back (forward, really--catching up to me)
from nowhere
as I fill my truck with three-and-a-half dollar fuel
(pouring my paycheck into my gastank),
and stare at the traffic light down the block.
And work, and work, and work...
And drift steadily further from that past life I so loved.
