I remember.

I walked about a lot today.

I passed by places I used to know, with the ghosts of misspent ways softly calling out my name.

I thought about the times we spent running in hard rain, and eating too-hot chips before the curry sauce had them soften.

I saw a man reading a map on a lamppost, hoping that someone would ask if he needed directions.

A friendly hand.
None offered.

I went past the park with the disused caravan where I first saw your bare breast.
It’s been burned down now, with just the charred frame remaining.
Heat, turned to cold, the inside destroyed and left to fester.

I eavesdropped on a conversation between two teenagers who were planning a party for when parents were away.
Such silly plans.
Such joy.
Holding hands.

I walked about a lot today.

I thought about a lot today.