Thursday, April 11, 2019

DIRGE

Forgetful as I am, in the
space between movements 
I've had time

to memorialize
the post-its
the photos

the fish tacos
the Dr. Mario
all of it.

Forgetful as I am—and
spent—every
day I wake, I recommit;

I repurchase 
what was known
by knowing it all again—alone.

I might as well
say it in my own 
voice now (since 

this is still how 
I learn things best):
everything we did

and didn't—was melody 
and rhythm.
Anything we could

or couldn't—
different fingerings
for a chord.

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