The “Edgewood Walk” street sign
Hit me like a burglar in the night,
In a sense,
In that I was in the midst of an obligation,
On my break from work,
And not in a position to
Walk through the wooded,
Creek-flanking backyard of an old acquaintance
And hijack a canoe
With my friends
That was sitting 30 feet up the creek or so.
.
I can’t help but wonder,
Though,
At the state of the world,
When the “Edgewood Walk” street sign
Looks the same as all the others,
In big, dumb, plain design and
Of identical length and coloration
To the general model.
.
Maybe, anyway,
One day, I’ll meet Edgewood Walk again,
And I’ll barely find it,
Buried under Autumn leaf coverage,
Name rendered in antiquated calligraphy in
Reds and oranges, like
A portal into a lost time.