There Was This

2026

Fifty-nine years ago I was eighteen.

I remember that like it was just

fifty-nine years ago.

I was a high school graduate

washing dishes in a nursing home,

wondering, What about my life?

And today, for everything I can remember,

there are gaps before and after.

Memories stumble over empty spaces,

and dreams mingle with memories.

Which is which?

To my knowledge that’s nothing new.

I conjured plausibles to fill the gaps,

but that was never satisfying.

They are not lies, but not quite the truth.

It was merely a convenience

to avoid tripping through a story.

Since I’m past seventy, it’s easier to say 

that I don’t remember this or that

and I’m okay to let it go.

No one seems to mind.

From: Ponder: Dreams, Memories,

and the Imagination

Unpub. MS p. 26