we don’t like to
think about
how memories change
we want
more of the same.
old haunts
tourist pollution
like the coins
in my pocket
I’d rather
stay
there.
don’t think about collapsing,
pavement, solid, underneath
crumbling, flaky concrete pastries
grin and
let the steel buckle. I
find myself laughing.
the grey-haired stranger
smiled when he said
my name
like he’s found something.
there wasn’t anything we could do
only watch
as things
changed
around
us.
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