I used to make a listDailyWell weeklyMaybe monthly.
The plan was to rememberNot just the facesBut the places and timesEverything in perfect detailSo one dayPerhaps todayI could write my memoirsOr confess.
Carol most definitelyMary is a yesElizabeth from ScotlandSarah at least oneAngela twoAnd Amanda there were severalBut each new face destroys anotherAlways changing.
I tried all waysAlphabeticalPhoneticallyNumericalAbstractlyBut in the end the memories fadeOr sometimes are washed awayBy guilt or alcohol, or both.
Serial somethingLoverOr haterUserOr abusedAlways one or the otherNever even stevenLasting longer than an itch.
Looking back it was goodA thing of legendIf ever I relatedBeyond the barest detailsEscaping me unguardedIn moments of reflection.
I am hungry nowFamished for something permanentCaringLasting longer than the box of tissuesIt takes to dry my tears.
The wastrel crying?
Whatever nextThe virtuous in control?
Of course they are.
You really have no conceptionA topsy turvey worldEverything quite out of placeYet perfectly aligned.