Memories blew like plastic bags across
The freeway when the thunderstorm came,
Change rearranging differences change made.
Last year, body and daughter rode these hills
Trying to find the one-night rental near
The giant open-pit copper mine, under
The white statue of Mary on the mountain,
Passing a wedding outside a small chapel
And several scruffy neighborhoods before
Settling on a strange side street, tiny houses
That had been miner's cottages, various
Stages of upkeep and renovation, tiny yards,
All sun, quiet. This time we settled in a hotel
And, when the sudden storm crashed around,
Sat by the window and watched how
Weather made the same story out of this
Town as of nearly any other town, shadows
Flickering, cars plowing through puddles,
Rain blurring the differences rain made.
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