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.

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