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Memories get…

Memories get distorted
   like the edicts of society in my head
I remember, as an athlete
   she’d never ice anything down, even an injury

The pain was a slight buzz
   all the same
You could hardly tell it was there
   after awhile

Whether a dislocated finger
   or the usual banged up knees in practice
Yet she was always eating crushed ice...
   I found that kind of odd

To be young is to taste immortality
   His little experience
His curious, strong passions for all
   life’s strange, wondrous and porous gifts

The dim shadows in the distance...
   We don’t die wholly at death
We molder away gradually before
   Faculty after faculty

interest after interest,
   attachment after attachment
all diminish, disappear
   We’re brutally torn from ourselves alive

You ask the time as though
   you can’t see how far
the sun rises above the horizon each day
   Your mechanical aids fail

to sharpen your wits
   Don’t worry about it now
I know the way out
   and I think I’m on to you dear, at last

He took the old-fashioned thermometer
   Flicked his wrist
to get the mercury down
   Put it in his mouth

Looked at it with a look that
   even a 12 year old
could see was frustration, 1963 style
   He thought he might have beaten it

but now knew
   he was sick again
When the sirens shriek
   she doesn’t think

“Someone’s in trouble”
   She thinks, “Someone may be
getting help” because she knows,
   “Someone’s always in trouble”

 

 

-April 14, 2013-