Paul reached into his curiosity
for a chocolate chip cookie
but found a bicuspid the tooth faerie dropped
back when he was six or seven.

Paul placed the recovered memories
of being six or seven
in a box in the basement
without sorting them in any manner.

Somehow, this liberated a small pair
of sky blue flip-flop sandals
that tracked nineteen sixties beach sand
across the living room carpet.

And the echo of playgrounds past
kept coming out of the speakers
when the radio tuner glided past
ninety-eight point six on the dial.