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Old Town
I hear the sounds
of the town where I once lived
resurface some distance away
like an elusive thought recaptured.
I'm wishing to visit again sometime.
The rhymes were abundant,
the climate, just chill enough
to drink yourself redundant
until the women undressed
to a man's wink.
I know what you think:
this place isn't real.
But it was, for a time,
and we all lived there
or have been there
at some point.
We were inroads, connected.
Trees lining the streets
to each side.
Symmetry, balance
in our kinship, laughter.
It held the word astride.
