Wednesday, June 15, 2016


Memorys Miserable Without You

You’re such a New York boy.
But look at me.  Will I always
be craving you?  (Look at me,

stupidly believing I’ll always
crave you, always cry out for
you) as I wake up with night

terrors (they’re terrible, so);
that’s what they’re calling
them now.  There’s a name

for it; there’s a whole society!
I suppose I’ve never been
unique.  This thought brings

me back to “Unique, New
York!  Unique, New York!”
and now faster, says the

director of Much Ado About
Nothing. An anachronistic
production set in the 1920’s.

I was Don Pedro, and all I
really remember were the
quick and plentiful costume

changes (often a uniform
of any sport you’d imagine
Jay Gatsby playing).  To

be playing.  I just played
on play-acting for years.
But you?  Do I actually

even remember you?  If
only I could say “Maybe.”
If I could just say “Maybe

not.”  But what if I told you
I remember EVERYTHING?
What, then, would that mean

to you?  Or whomever?  I
skulk around trying like mad
to be remembered for some-

thing.  To forget, even.  Per-
haps. Yes...No.  The truth
is, if I’m so very forgettable,

then why do you try so des-
perately hard (it seems)
to completely erase me?