I passed this way before
brushing against the events of my life
remembering the sounds of warm voices
the flavory smells from humming kitchens
houses dozing in the dark of evening
I was a passerby
a child running up the dirt road
my grandmother flinging kernels at the chickens
I'd rested too many times
stopped for too many gulps of water
Richie drove his cab to the boardwalk
his little boys with my little boys
we loved them so much
his face conceded I was no longer that person
covered by too many layers
that anguished morning she told me the truth
that afternoon we slashed blindly at each other
the night by the river where we comforted
the hoarse cicadas croaking relief
I searched for us throughout this vanished land.