Poem

[kilroy]

For an Old Love

I have few memories of you left, my love.
Two years have taken them, as I said they would.
You were my obsession, my hate, my desire--
you are a tan line, a sticker, a two-hour journey.

You are as fleeting as you said you were,
but you still have your memories.
You remember like everything is the present,
but all I have is the present to see through,
and we have no present.
I have a cloth chair, a brass lamp, a bad meal.

There is more there, all flotsam.
You remember things perfectly,
or forget everything perfectly,
but I must work with each fragment.
I see half a smile and imagine a face;
I find a blue rose and must draw my own memories.

I remember you better than you were, my love.
I remember you better than I saw you.
I barely remember you at all.

**

Not finished, but I like the beginning and the ending. I'll take a whack at the middle again sometime soon.