My first two crushes are fifty yards apart
in the same Ohio cemetery. They never knew each other
but now I connect them like a bowstring. I keep
memories like a modeled city, the tallest buildings
erecting themselves between my shoulders. I have
good neighborhoods and blocks that marked me.
I have fires that threaten to burn everything. There
is a phenomenon called “chunking” where
we individualize memories when we’re younger
& group them together as we get older.
Time doesn’t fly when you are having fun, time
flies when you begin to remember less of it.
I drop my daughter off at school. An officer pulls
me out of my car as the sun goes down. Something
died in between. When aging, the only thing
that becomes agile is time. I now know why
the Babylonians invented days of the week: their worst
day never ending scared them to death.