Evening Song

The crickets and frogs, cicadas,

distant music, barking of dogs

poured over the silence like gravy…

refrigerator hum reminder of

civilization, what I spawned from,

yet escaped to a somewhat distant

previous time, to Tepoztlan, fading

rapidly now like old celluloid. 

The aroma of my toilet reminds me

of Chicago train stations when  I 

was young….(olfactory memories

are rare these days… fresh bread 

aside). Bells now…I don’t know what

the late ones (or, any, really ) mean.

I remember in a tent with my brother,

next to  our house, hearing the same

insect sounds…sneaking back into the

house when our parents were asleep

to watch horror movies on  T.V.. It feels

like most around me here in town

are asleep now. A lone distant single note

shout of a bread seller.