We brought our words with us,
stepping into the room with lots
of noise, a premonition of things
to come.
His toothpaste tasted like candy
canes (he let me use his brush).
We had broken into the same
party craving a few minutes of
distance. Skipping the wine,
we both headed directly to
the cheese. It was a pretty
fantastic plate. Thus began
our opening up, our spilling
out of a lot of chilly memoir.
This was my new project. A
flurry of excitement, an
opening. Eating in silence,
slowly chewing each fork-
stabbed chunk, wincing.
The memory blows as it
goes. Is gone, blown.
I forgot which word
stumbled upon which.
Indeed, I forgot
each word, all of the
words. The noisy room
with no footprints.
