MEMORY
The
bones of my Jurassic past
Arch
over into ribs.
They
house a good-luck bear, a punk-haired rockstar, and brightly colored shoelaces.
Such
things as what we remember of our childhood
We
wish we could regain.
A
broken-down house, the nettles in a book
Sting,
As
do the things we no longer know,
Only
feel the once-vibrant presence of.
Resonating.
Regress!
The years come too fast.
And
throbbing, pulsing at the center of it all,
The
beginning of a wind tunnel
Whose
centrifugal force sucks
In,
In,
In.
Nothing
truly remembered
Survives
the mortal world.
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