Searching For Goodbye

We begin saying goodbye,

become distracted by

 

the search for time -

attic, relics, the old street,

a man selling hot pretzels

and peanuts from a cart,

the doughnut truck.

Letters, old photos

tied into square bundles,

the thin ribbon of time

holding memories together,

adding depth to the confusion.

 

There should be another word.

One that carries the same weight

but is lighter off the tongue,

easier on the ear, that can be thrown

over the shoulder like salt, or rice

for the luck it will bring.