I walk the streets of Chickasha

Like a tumbleweed blowing through a desolate plain.

The venturas between the buildings

Catch me unaware.

They knock the wind out of me

As I stare through time.

My grandma takes me by the hand

Some fifty years ago.

She takes me to buy sandals.

We walk the downtown cobblestones,

And she says she wants

To buy some fish to eat for supper.

I can’t help but grimace 

Thinking of the smell.

She sees my face and sighs.

I’m only four.

She grimaces, too.

We buy shoes and then go home

And eat cold macaroni.

-jenn