Amity Rodney Poet I do not know?

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Walking along
a simple street
cars rush past
Quickly, slowly
Step
      by
         step 
On my way,
Home,
On the horizon
It comes
Where did it go?
Why does it come?
A shot, frozen, small
Colors, sounds… 
smell?
It does not flood, 
Instead it trickles,
Bit
   by
      bit
Grasping, Evading? 
Attending, Avoiding?
What prompts this?
Nothing current
Nothing surrounding me. 
Except this
Accept this.
Okay this time. 
Simple past 
passing by,
cars on the street.

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