Cautious Melody

Ticket stubs, magazines, assorted mixture: I found your
picture
You stood in the sun.
There is no reason to call it memory. Nor the reckoning of a
personal history.
O the city creates that necessity.
Hair caught in your eye.
Squinting as though strained of thought or at me winking.

And the boy always heeds the call as though caught in the
thinking that love is never fleeting.
And the young fool turns to summer's pleasantry and a
cautious melody.