The 1300s

The 1300s, along my walk,

smell like the comic book shop

that I visited as a child,

the one where I took a picture

with Spiderman

and bought my first issue

of the X-Men.

The sunlight glimmering

through the long windows

is the same as that

of my adolescence,

when I spent evenings

wandering streets with friends,

all of us together talking

about impossible futures

as the day slipped

through our fingers.

The hall is colder

than I had guessed,

and I find myself wishing

I’d brought along a coat

for my brief outing.

When I return home,

I close the door

behind me and

stand in the present,

where the air smells

of my first day

away from home,

when it seemed

I was meeting the world

for the first time.

The room’s light is such

that even the mysteries

of my cluttered space

offer the possibility of solution,

if only I put in the effort.

And I smile upon finding

that it’s not quite so cold here

as it has been at other times.