There are steps and then
there are step changes
Steps, as I walked all across my childhood
and changes that suddenly dawned around me
like the growth rings of a tree.
Those memories, arthritic now
have slowed down, and once in a while
surface as vague flashes of intensity.
Every time I see them
in a dream or as a deja vu, I tell myself
not to lose them this time.
A longing for those innocent
one dimensional and amoebic days
pulls me into a world of sand and mud
Where half-eating and half-playing
we knew for sure, that there would be a call
when the dinner is ready, shriller than
what I get now from the micro-wave
as it clamors for my attention.