You remember it in
a mirror image kind
of a way.
Like a distant pain
you realize happens
but only when you
stand from a squat
or the name of the singer
in that one band
who made that one
song you find yourself
singing at the top
of your lungs when
radio still owned the day.
You remember it in
convenient colors
and less people in the room.
You see it differently
based on height and
heartbreak and the smell
of ozone present in the
air when we heard the noise
which sounded higher
in pitch than I recall.
It meant everything to me,
it informed the choices
I made and the language
that pulled me in.
It is present, still, in the
way I tell stories or
decided what film to
watch when I'm alone
in the house.
And maybe that's fine.
It's good that the impact
didn't crater inside you
because I would never
want anyone to carry
this around with them.
There were warm summer days
and bitter cold winter nights
and autumn lasted months
and spring...
**** it.
I don't know if you survived.
I hope you are well.
I hope you are happy.
I hope I never see you again.