Today, I remembered yesterday.
And yesterday I remembered
many days ago. As insignificant
as the standard operations
of a standard issue brain,
these revelations were just
re-adjudications of judgments
so long past as to have passed
into long-term memory. I would
have liked to have saved some of
the compost as flowers, but when
a flower dies it is dead. I would rather
not revisit the face of a person whose
anger ranged to wildly to be anything
but a powerful face. Another randomly
generated day that died many years ago.
Fragments? Do you hate them? Are they
transferable? No? Then do you still hate
them? Is this a process or is it an object?
Do you object to my repetitive use of the
homophone? Did you call me on that
number? I saved it. Just in case you
might.
Roman Ryan 