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evening thoughts on a train
unpleasantness
I have tricked myself
with false belief
I have been
its architect
and
time does have its
tricks
and
memory
slips slides
forwards
inwards
backwards
two unsteady fingertips
riding
a
planchette
present-past
become
one tense
out of
order dinner courses
served sloppily
on the plate
not given
proper order but
perhaps weight
the dessert
is eaten first
with the least
pleasant course consumed
last
unless the
predilection
is for the
unappetizing
repast
truth
would I rather sip
through time
a sweet vermouth
and be drunk
on the best
of times
or do I desire a
binge of memory
letting its deluge
drown me?
do I retain the hope
do I know how
to swim?
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