Town

taken by me in July 2019 (added after the poem was written)

I forgot the name
of my old town
and the familiar
dialogues
spoken by the
tooth-missing
oldtimers,
whose skin
was leathered
by the Sun.
Stories written
on their faces
got lost somewhere
in the alleys,
where peddlers
used to
trick kids
into buying
colorful cotton candy.
Grandma’s cat
had gobbled its
last can of sardine
yet its languid yawn
still lingers
in my memory.
I see old phantoms
wander between
gleaming skyscrapers
and highways,
where their
homes were
buried
underneath.