Passing through a small town
A world, a reality foreign to me
It never existed before coming
Will it be there when I go away
A burg with a forgotten tale
Along some numbered stretch
That the locals call by name
Lost to the passerby there
Its inhabitants see each pass by
As if a bit of strange trickery
A presence by prestidigitation
Being, but for a brief spanse
Interactions in moments fleeting
If only a glance or a single action
Some may be mundane, unnoted
Or yet life long impressions made
A wonder to think that they live
In a completely different land
That mirrors in so many ways
Those I have always known
When we part are they still there
Do they wonder the same of me
Or is it but a dream on awakening
That vanishes in a solitary blink