We brush it under the carpet
but we cannot forget it.

My memory is a sieve,
give it an inch
and it'll take a while
wondering who you are.

No mean feat in this heat

Fate must play a hand and
usually it's the underhand
I muse on this over muesli
which the lady insists upon.

I remembered once
I think,
but it doesn't matter
because
I was never gone
just somewhere else
when the sun shone.

now I am synchronized
my
wounds have been cauterised
and I am
putting down the railroad ties
and getting back on track.