i see a love-struck memory walk off the bus—
her feet remember there was what until We parted; We thought
what forever, but she don’t smile, or nod—
and the distance—don’t—eats at me so that We can be forgotten;
her eyes are fresh, pink lips, and memory still says hello
but she walks away without a word. simple goodbyes.
lost love lingers—
a top that continues its spin
slowly unwinding and falling;
there is no need for reminders though i see them daily.
girlfriend asks, “what…?” “okay,” i say, “i saw Someone today.”
she talks of her high school What, and understands part of me; i
ask her how it is with her and the What?
scene: the possible, cordial,
drags me in asking.
her and i smile—
and still, what if there ever was, and maybe never what again…
silence, but there are no (words) except
regret is too old for either of us
(there is no need for reminders though i see them daily;)
the movie plays to my arms circling, and we know each other…
the actors portray our names, and then
the science of belief is given a good turn in her hand,
but i only wish… and today i get it, today—
she is ever-present, and her hair reminds me of picnics
on the screen:
simple, we are without memory.
her and i hold, squeeze, hold, laying down gracefully—
there is no need for reminders though I see them daily.