Returning to Levittown
is like looking
at a movie.
I see characters
and recognize friends.
Startled, I see myself
in this movie.

Driving the old streets
past the old houses,
even their paint
looks the same.

That yard, where I blew
across the front lawn,
bright and skitterish
as a fallen leaf,
is not mine anymore.

I thought it would
always belong to me.
I thought I was
rooted here.
I thought the past
would always be
just as clear
as the present,
but I'm squinting now.

I'm parked like a spy
across the street,
peering at old neighbors,
holding a dusty film
against the light,
trying to make sense
of an old world
through a new windshield.

Return to the Table of Contents.