I once went to a small
place where no one knew my name
and tried to be someone else
for a while
but failed when I could not forget
the place I was from and how
I came to be in this place
and where I was going
and who I would become
It adheres, this history,
this possibility, like layers,
slowing movement; and chance
and newness begins to erode
leaving a trail of dust
glittering in the setting sun.
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