They Wander

They wander out from my memory 
somewhere in California.

I first found them,
these pairs of pants,
in a store in New England.
They were bold:
a velvety blue pair
and a green one too.

I tried and they fit me,
and the price was good.

I didn’t put them back on after that.
Neatly folded in a flat box
they made it into the compact car
going to California.

I remember taking them out
in our room in San Diego
and holding them,
their colors and softness,
this representation of part of me
that felt bold & expressive,
and then placing them back in the box.
After that, the box falls out of memory.

But what that box held
is still somehow with me
as I sit here in faded blue jeans
on a cool spring day
with a dream of song.

written May 2023