I thought passing time erases memories.
Long ago, I cast off concrete
recollections of my city childhood,
while wandering down soft pine lined paths
in the woods around my rural home.
But still, suddenly,
I feel the pounding on the sidewalks,
hear the numbing beat of trafficed streets,
the stomach gnawing sprint past midnight alley,
the wierd creep on the corner
touches himself with one hand,
beckons me with the other.
These moments melt from mind,
but not from skin, gut, groin.
Sitting beside a soft spring stream,
there comes a seconds shiver in my spine
when what may be stalking behind
twists my neck to stare.
Then I exhale, slowly.
The creek giggles deeper into the glade.
Out of sight, out of mind.