Nothing changed.

Faded red fabric,

stairs to the balcony.

Had I gone to the restroom—

still vintage yellow? 

But

the faces,

the people.

Impermanent.

One recognized,

no belonging,

not there.

How strange to be where you were, but no more.

Today is a moment.

Tomorrow, the steps rewritten

Steps.

Rewritten.

By other

feet in the 

places I was, 

steps replacing mine. 

No longer my experience—new.