Is your memory a circle,
or a trip straight out and back

A beginning and an ending,
or one continuous track

Do you see the same things going up,
that you pass when coming down

Is retention sealed and programmed,
by things going round and round

Without an ending where you stop,
or perhaps just one last verse

You rewind backwards to square one,
the past again rehearsed

This flux of motion holds you tight,
your perception never free

Serving both to mislead and to lie
—in a false infinity

(Seattle Washington: March, 2017)