Mulholland Memorial Fountain
by Armando Ortiz
He walked past the fountain
and childhood chatter
got intertwined with the white noise
that came from there.
In summers past,
children jumped inside
and stood under giant spigots,
dancing and celebrating the sun.
They played
in fresh waters
brought by invisible
channels.
Time got lost
in rushing waters
that in days past
cooled his body.
Laughter
joined the twang of the air
that awoke those memories
from its slumber.
Instances- forgotten,
mostly ignored,
but still there, out there,
everywhere-
were remembered.
He was soaked
in work and worries,
but that place-
the fountain
where he played,
where time lasted longer
than it does today,
was still there
that day.
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