Before

Looking down I saw the left one
untied, the lace two cat tails
rhythmically thwapping shoe and street.
Like pants dropped to the ankles,
time folded in on itself, and
for one hundred steps, or more, I was
five, before I knew enough
to notice my bow undone, or ask,
"Is this a brush with simultaneous past,
or a digitized memory
in a file fold of brain?" You know,
before life had to mean more,
than life.