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May 2017
i could write the story of my life remembering all that was,

forgetting the things i forget. i couild start at the beginning,

work through to the end when it comes. it could be that way.

may be, i have already written much of it in bits and       scraps

here and there. such is the way of it. some things come random.

not as you expected.                     i was to tell my story, you said.

i cannot be

bothered. there is no interest.

if there is, it can be googled, gathered, stitched quilt like into some


i cannot remember my granpa fondly, for he was dead a while before.

you told me your tale, silked tongue, the things you wished me to know.



no need to impress. cat **** leaves on skin leave black marks. remember?

recall the smell.

i could write the story of my life.

Sonja Benskin Mesher
       ---, ---, victoria, Jose Remillan, martin and 17 others
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