in the second best suit
elderly lilacs and quaking aspen
mix under the sun, and the
not-so-wild blue flags compete
with what the sun sears through
just before the summer fires
come around once again.
what's left to do: take a deep breath
locate the scent of dust, the scent of
history, the scent of wanderlust, the
earthy scent of just stop here, for good.
at long last, it is time to investigate.
stick your fingers through the holes
in those old pockets, find that
old dime left behind, maybe even
expressly to be found. you see,
so and so was here, and still is.
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