Re-member, a crude stitching back together
Of something once part of me. I can sew
Any monster you like, shove it shambling
Into view with the thoughts about how the yard
Needs mowing or that spot just now on the floor,
Wood grain or cat barf I’m not sure, and uh oh,
Why now: that old cartoon of myself as a child,
Leaping out of the car in swim trunks, chased
By my parents’ hysteria, but my stupid joy
Hurled me all the way to the creek, I dove in
And my face and the rocks came together, then
I have completely forgotten what happened next,
For reasons known only to a part of myself
I will never be allowed to know, but I am still here,
My face unscarred but wrinkled, yet I don’t remember when
The wrinkles appeared, and that seems important, too,
But then most of my memories feel like the wrong ones:
The good, ghosted in wet sand with a gooey finger,
The bad, chiseled in marble by master craftsmen,
Each remembering more of a reminding 
That a Japanese man, asked how to live a hundred years,
Replied: “Forget everything as soon as it happens.”