So What If Memory Isn't True
I found an old scalpel a new blade
she carefully shaved my corns
as gently as her dear mother’s
We drank like magicians we smoked like fish
strange of kind her mahou tsukai
how she put geomancy in the air
She walked out after a fight about my photos
a balance of probabilities she was crazy
(though most likely I was too)
She was a goddess she was so pristine
my poetry was dirty in the shower
she rubbed me down like a horse
Tried to scrub the naysayer off me
she got some here missed a little there
then she refused to have sex for a year
Fires raged on the Kobe streets
she was young she was lost in the great earthquake
so what if memory isn’t true.
© 2014 Rob Schackne
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