Flashbacks to Pike Place
Yesterday I received a poem on
a postcard about a city I used to know
and a street market I often visited
to buy seafood and books and frankincense.
The poem even featured a recent emigrant
from North Carolina: me, time-traveling
again. I quickly flashed back to the early ‘80’s,
and long, lonely submarine deployments,
and the Cold War. And rainy rides to Seattle
via the Bainbridge Island Ferry, to shop
for books in the U district and
at Pike Place Market, always anticipating
the next voyage to the bottom of the sea.