14 | January | 2016 | Golden Star Poetry

“go around the water currents.
feed into the system.
find out who those people were.
quarter the remains of anything
you find .”
(you’re only used to this kind of
talk because you hear it all the time in his mind.
like brushing your teeth, it means nothing)

“you know very well I can’t deal with the
tension that comes with a
stay at one of those viewing rooms!
seeing people die like that
behind glass? I get nauseous!
it’s too painful.”
(it’s too painful because he says it’s too painful.
i think you get off on it.)

then I’m on the couch. the doctor says
“you have to start out at the beginning
back at the place where you first saw her.
then you can remember.”
and you bow your head in solemnity
because you know the memories are in your head
(you only want him to remember because you want to remember
with him)

“well…she’s gleaming, with rays of light dancing on her face…
walking along houses lined up like toy soldiers…
and she hands me a flower that she…
picked off the freeway…
and she’s so…
beautiful…
some kind of far away old soul but she’s just a child…”
I saw her as a child
but I forgot I knew.
(oh, this is the fiction,
the part you make up yourself. he doesn’t even know who you are)

suddenly I wake up again and it’s all over
and the sheets are a mess and
by some miracle I see her
standing outside the window
with that look on her face again.
(but we all know you only
read into his thoughts to catch them)
(to catch him.)
(that girl by the window is me)