mmdccxxviii

I Talk Too Much

Meanwhile, there was

one stolen backpack.
Three and a half months.
Would this be funny from
any perspective? Can time
exist long enough for some-
one to discern? All I can see
is what is no longer, until I
then lose sight of what I had
(in actuality: days ago, months
ago, years ago). And who I was.
Who I am? Who am I? A reminder
pops up on my tiny computer screen,
(which is my iPhone, where I currently
type this. My only computer...):
Manicure. Where on earth did that
come from, I wonder. See? I have
forgotten nail salons, bars, night
clubs, dancing (?!), being casual,
the joy of working (yes, in producing
paid work I know joy!). “You get to
completely start over; reinvent!”
But why is that a positive thing,
exactly? And how many times must
I begin again (please never like this,
if so!)…. One might say any singular
moment poses such a grand (grand-
iose) opportunity. One might say that.