The Persistence of Memory in the Twenty-First Century

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 23, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 23, 2018

A A A

A A A


I don’t remember the last time

I reached out

For something I couldn’t grasp

Or stick in my back pocket—

It was probably years ago

When I watched you

Or your

Ponytail

Walk

Away

 

You

Never could let go

Of a smile

Could you?

Or maybe

That was me?

Maybe

 

Perhaps

Yes may—

 

Maybe?

 

I saw you

Yesterday

In a bar

Or on a screen in a bar

And I meant to call you but

 

I forgot

 

The last 4 digits

 

Of your number

 

So I cried


 

And blew my nose in an old phone book

 

I don’t know your favorite color now—

I’m sure it’ll be in the

Flower arrangements

At my wedding

Huh

Funny—


 

I thought I saw someone 


 

In a bridesmaid’s gown


 

She looks a lot like you


 

Or you look a lot like her now

 

You left a clear piece of yourself

On my dining room table

And although the texture is too smooth

For my taste

I am

 

Too forgetful

 

 

Too selfish


 

To give it back.

 


© Copyright 2019 Heather Renea Teague. All rights reserved.

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