I step outside to throw out my trash

The sun is shining, the sky’s baby blue,
the clouds are like
melted marshmallows

On the ground near my apartment door,
I see a needle,
nearly hidden in the grass

I look around; no one in sight
I hear the chatter of
kids in the distance

I consider picking up the needle
and tossing it into my trash bag,
but I don’t

They might come back for it later,
I figure,
might retrace their steps
and find themselves back at my door again

I don’t blame them;
we all seek warmth
in old footsteps

We all find ourselves,
sooner or later,
back at the place
we thought
we buried
deep in

Alex Z. Salinas lives in San Antonio, Texas. His poetry has been published in the San Antonio Express-News, Shot Glass Journal, The Rye Whiskey Review, and in the San Antonio Review, where he serves as poetry editor.