All of this will go. Be gone.
I am in the dissolving instant
already dust of the future
That text from Gilly brought it home,
how she remembered us on a patch of grass in Southbourne
and me imagining it was a pitch, a full-blown wicket
and I could score
make centuries and maiden over’s with my cousin
unaware of her sex or its implications
and now, perhaps half a century later
I am returned by words and the memories of another person’s cache
of history to a place and a time I thought I had lost
Sometime soon I will blink and someone else will be reminding me
of where I have been
By God, is that what I get from walking the Dog
the intoxicating sense of memory unearthing scattered parts
of me
mikedohsays 