Another City

The sky barely tilting, certainly not falling. Swallowing the day for more blue, light bouncing down Fan Tan Alley and the wicker baskets adjusting their weave to get comfortable. Panes of windows stretch cat like and hungry for the sun, this Saturday spread wide and wandering, lost in a familiar city.

The syncopation of streets like phone lines strung between posts, the gaps like I never lived here before. The shopkeepers can tell I am lost, the way I trip on steps, stumble here and there. Things are like this sometimes despite the determinedness of hands, the rocks we overturn, the sideways smiles we give. You'll have to forgive me, the unreachable, the other half of my words falling away, they're just shapes now.