1987
- Katharine Whitehead
- Oct 24, 2023
- 1 min read
Updated: Oct 25, 2023
He’s like a hoarder
You keep asking him to
Throw away a scrap of paper
From 1987. It has the
Address of
an aunt long forgotten
and a time to meet her
at a café in the morning.
It was June then. Now it is
December.
He is 49.
Back then he was seven and
three quarters
He knows that
He knows everything.
The summer of June 1998
Atlanta; with his parents.
The scene of the mess
That he made in fourth year
University
Conditioner: 2004. Glanced
At in the shower before
His first date with a girl
He never saw again.
The psitherisim in his front
Porch
When he grew up on the
Rugged coast of Cuba.
Greif: the loss of his sister.
Understanding.
His pursuit of
Beginning again.
This man, he recorded tiny
Moments
Of time in his memory,
And he remembered a lot.
Complex, absurdist discussions
And maybe a scrap of paper from 1987
Literature is a hoarder.
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