inertia

Watching a man change direction 

mid stride at the crosswalk

I notice the gentle tilt of his torso

backwards

downward

as though body and intention

are not yet aligned.

Moving through this city

I find myself returning

to the places

you have shown to me

or that I, perhaps,

would have shown to you

in time. 

So much remains

by design or accident.

Pastness in the moving body.

Memory in the mourning self.

There is no need 

to look for markers. 

Move softly. 

The body remembers.