February 12, 2021 - From Issue No. 8 - 2020 - Robin Romeo’s “Old Haunts”

Old Haunts
- Robin Romeo

I’m surprised to see Washington Mews—me, lost
on a path lost to memory. Cobblestones seem not to
have worn. It’s been a while since horseshoes chipped
away at the flinty stone sending sparks out like little
short-lived creatures happy in their moment’s existence.
It must have been a sight—lantern flames riding
convection to tallness & collapse over & over.
I would have been absorbed in the flicker,
& worry that wheels might fall off the way they seem
always to indicate they might. Strangers still dart at you
as you enter the park, to whisper sales pitches in their
language of ambiguity—just in case—as they pass.
We’re days into the semester. Levity dozes in back
rows of classrooms beyond the perimeter.
Eighth Street feels more staid; no grit & scuff
on buildings squat on the sidewalk tilting streetward.