Behind Glen Park

The beach bed that built for years and years only to be wiped away by the tsunami.

Things that almost were.
Stepping into the woods, in Williamsville that summer it was like finding a new world

Yet there was no fear–not of the unknown but rather what was, a smeared paw print

Yet there was no deduction–but only my imagination–how that dog could be a bear

Yet there was no hesitation, regression, but excitement–In that, I knew I was wrong.

So why spoil it.
Standing at the edge of the shadow of the trees, afraid of the Sun but willing to see

The foot trails that made ways through the tall grass behind me–I was not the first

The charred log, surrounded by an imperfect circle of cinder block and broken brick

Echoing voices, this urbanity–muffled by water whisking past stones before my toes

I should buy a boat, I thought–when the intrusion of a meme, perhaps propelled me.

My cellphone.

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