The Scent of Shallots

In a city I knew
In a dream I did not,
Simultaneously real
And unreal,
The scent of shallots.
In a park filled with statues,
With déjà vu
I resolved
An older problem,
In a city where my hosts
Were both living
With the scent of cinnamon,
And long-time buried
With sunflowers scented,
Became common as ghosts,
The tool of remembrance
Showed me the route
From myself again.