I think of a dream place from decades ago

that I visited several times in anticipation

of a journey that was nothing like

                    closets within closets, walk-in, live-in

                    apart or compart, what was meant, what got sent

                    investing when vests have such small pockets

this day when the moon almost catches the sun

like when you see something beautiful to the side

of the road and your momentum and the surrounding traffic

won’t let you stop

                  the produce draws my eyes, the bakery pulls my nose

                  the butcher whistles to my inner dog

                  my wallet wants to leave the market

                  & go where nothing’s for sale

if I read all the words piled up at once, what comes through

some memories more opaque than others

more or fewer tendrils, when I only have one finger to hang from

one toe to balance on, unable to see where I’ll land