light came,
a pin sized ray,
and rooted ‘round
to strike a memory
decades old.
flickering at first,
hard to know
what it was:
a street, some tracks,
a block not mine.
colors came
dulled by dark.
I was fifteen
in July heading
toward the carnival.
though concealed
and unconsidered,
the future was
at the end of the
coins in my pocket.
this captured image,
a time preserved
perspective,
rediscovered
in a morning
of obscurity.
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