"'TWAS THEN THE TIME...WE WERE IN THE DAYS"

His head full
of Irish myth.

The here & there
of this & that

bits that stick
in the mind

for as long as
forever is.

Sticky backs hitching
a ride on a boy's blue jumper.

This the emotional
archeology of me

sifting what's left
of times

long long gone by
in the time of his own

long long gone byes.

A winter of '63.

That 67-ish summer.

An Easter
that brought death.

There was a woman
(was there a woman?)

turned into a pool
turned into a fly
blown away by a wind

her name eroded
by a sea of time.

And the legendary heroes
like little boys

building a snowman
that would be the biggest

of the biggest
and

that the women would
compete to see

who could ***
furtherest through this

man of snow.

Some things are
not made

. . .to forget.

Oh such
artifacts of thoughts!

Such shards of stories
come back

to see what
kind of man

the little boy
would become.

He smiles as he remembers
& un-remembers

the such
of such

the unforgettable
calling to him

in mythic voices
the tallest tales

still easier
to resurrect

that his time
of 9

when he was going on
10.