Past unlocked

My peddling found a man’s home

where we sat and shed

some unspoken cries

My hand rubbing against the meat

and hairs of his thigh,

just as he would have me;

wrapped in the shroud

of his junky room,

protected by the slab of new night

in the summer sky

I felt the changing leaves

etch into their first crisp

I might have heard the first leaf

pinched by the changing air

That night had me on my knees

and to a place once far

off in the past

I searched the satellite

for proof of my arrival

to no signal,

though I was there

Though I knew

something could mend

and be undercut

for necessary bleeding,

I hadn’t arrived anywhere

and the past simply had been

left unlocked

and so, really,

required no key