Wednesday, February 1, 2012

buna

Is there anything that holds the memory
of a place
more completely than a smell?

He was so small the last time
corn sizzled and popped
over charcoal
while the coffee steeped --

and that nearly half a lifetime
ago in baby years.

Still today he stopped, remembered:
lifted his nose a bit with a deep breath,
and smelling the popping corn
asked for the coffee.

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