Little Things Allow Us to Remember

I Forget Sometimes

I forget sometimes

    to set my clock’s alarm, my body a spring of coils on these mornings

I forget sometimes

               

                the day of the week, recollection muddled by the moment it’s found in

I forget sometimes

                the names of old lovers, now merely bedspreads, shadows, and sounds of

    indifference

I forget sometimes

                when I was 5 years old, a six-pack of glass bottles, mounted on my tricycle, gifted 

                me my first 13 stitches

I forget sometimes

                the man I long to be, too immersed with my consuming, never heading the 

                warnings

I forget sometimes

                that if I hold completely still, breathless, eyes grappling a pulsing night sky, there 

                are seconds when I swear my entire being blends

I forget sometimes

                what I know of God, until blindsided by overwhelming waves of magnificence

I forget sometimes

                that girl from the park, and how when she kisses, or lies, her left index finger 

                twitches

I forget sometimes

                the birthdays and appointments, anniversaries, song lyrics, and special occasions

I forget sometimes

                my mother’s smile, having been granted a view of Heaven, and thus, taken it 

                for granted

I forget sometimes

                my undeniable momentum, too often forced, by this world, to sit still

I forget sometimes

                the names of old teachers, who saw something in me the faulty mirrors 

                wouldn't reveal

I forget sometimes

                the laws of this nature, like in order for growth to happen, something 

                must be planted

I forget sometimes

                the random holding of my breath, giggling incessantly, being fearless 

                while afraid, licking this life like new fallen snow, and all the other things that 

                are considered childish sensations      

I forget sometimes

                little things I’m glad to have, too caught up in my trials to focus on the treasures

I forget sometimes

                this pleasure derived from words, until its intensity fills me, awesome and 

                unmeasured

I forget sometimes

                old stanzas of my life, full of repetitive mistakes, where I couldn’t refrain

I forget sometimes

                the bench where I used to sit, back in my hometown, off the corner of 

                Vance and Main

I forget sometimes

               

                the simple and complex,

                the beginnings, the ends, and middles, in-between,

                the seemingly insignificant, as well as the essential

                and the truth, about what this all means

I forget sometimes

but sometimes, I can remember