Little Nooks
Our selves, our other selves, remain in some
Place, somewhere. They are in our minds, the minds
Of others, in our memories. They come
Up, recollections in our brains. These rinds
Are what we used to be when younger, young
In places where we knew each other on
A continent away, a place among
The trees upon an arboretum’s lawn
In Washington, perhaps, or in a church,
Or at a wedding. Others will recall
Me as that man who left them in the lurch
By moving far away. Our thoughts enthrall
Us with the thoughts of how we used to move
And look inside that long lost lovely groove.