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remembrances "soon", I could say, (answering questions I don't have to ask), extricating myself from this tangle of arms and legs that is us, breaths inhaled and exhaled, sometimes in unison, mostly, not; mornings watching each other awake; grumbling, smiling, yawning, this repeating kaleidoscope of our days an indelible imprint. Our once-wild rollercoaster of days, now a safe passage on the Union Pacific, slow swaying cars, straight tracks through endless plains, yawns tethered to Cable, our foreground of dishes and beercans; wild aspirations tamed with familiar expectations. "How did we get here?", (you never ask) "We were left here", (I would reply) "in this patient embrace, dumped here like flotsam by the current of our wild imaginings that still manage to lap at our feet at odd, wonderful times, whispering 'do you remember?'" And I remember, me, bringing you roses or pastries, the street vendors who would remember my name; now I bring you the paper from the front doorstep (if I remember.) Jon Bohrn © 2001 |