Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Friction

We say time drags on
Because we do not roll over it.
It clings to us, roughly.
It leaves us gasping, pink and bloody.
I'll always be from Pittsburgh,
Even if I could become a Montanan,
and a student teacher throws away his backpack,
Carries a briefcase with the tag still on it.
Experience and close acquaintance are forever.
We can't forget, but we forget why we remember.
They are a never-ending Rorschach test,
Making shapes of whispy clouds and week-old bruises.

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