The taste is of Raspberry Sour Cream Pastries

Not looking where I'm going,
I step on a patch of frozen time
and slip,
falling into a memory,
hitting my head
hard
on the sidewalk in Kalamazoo,
which must look like I remember
as memory cannot allow
for change.
I stand
and enter a world,
foreign to this version of myself
and wonder,
as always,
how has time
done this.