forgot

There were details that seemed important. Things that should be noticed, at least mentioned in passing. Words swarmed around them, and for a moment they were blazing bright in the lonely hovel of my mind. Now I look for them and they are gone. Forgotten is as good as never was, in these slow hours. Forgotten is as good as formless amid all these timid words.

I lost the watch, I forgot my way. The dreams run so vivid while the days blur and fade. Some small joke, some little levity. Something to cling to in the bright heartless blues and the warm dark reasons. You know for a moment it matters. It seems like a sort of proof, the answer to some question waiting up the road. Then it is oblivion atop oblivion, strata without differentiation. The buried treasure becoming only another lost hope. Another fossil trapped in stone.

When I began I had a story. These years passed, and I am left holding little but explanations. Schemes and theories and a childhood left on the fritz. The words obscure the landscape, they fog the faces and steal the names. The clutter limbo of lost loves, the muttered prophecy and the steam on the mirror. There is nothing to say, if I am asked. There is no one asking, whatever there was unsaid.